Red (17 page)

Through the opening in the bookshelf, I found myself in a hallway with a door at the other end. I was certain it would be locked, but when I turned the knob, it swung open on silent hinges. I stepped into a vast hall. Endless. It stretched for ages in both directions, and there were people all around, all of them covered in red cloaks. I stared at them, and they stared back, until I realized it was only me. Hundreds of Reds staring at herself. The walls were covered floor to ceiling with mirrors.

I didn't see Beast anywhere. Granny always says never to trust mirrors. They can be tricky things, especially if they've been enchanted, which I suspected these were. Some mirrors will reflect things as they really are, while others reflect things that could be, or things that are happening elsewhere, or even things that you wished were true.

I saw myself reflected in the mirror dozens of times. Just plain Red. Same tangle of brown hair, sharp gray eyes, and small pale face.

Something shifted in the nearest mirror to my right. A woman appeared. A real beauty. Her skin was flawless, a hint of pink in her cheeks and on her lips. Her sapphire-blue eyes contrasted sharply with chestnut hair that curled softly around her face and shoulders. She looked familiar to me, but it was impossible that I had seen her before now.

“Her name is Beauty,” said a voice. The woman's lips moved like she was speaking, but the voice was far too deep to belong to her. I turned and found Beast standing in front of the beautiful woman in the mirror.

“The name suits her,” I said.

“Do you think so?” said Beast. “I'm not so certain.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “No one would deny that she's beautiful.”

“I believe many would deny it,” said Beast. “Especially now.”

I looked back and forth between the beast and the girl in the mirror. There was no resemblance, except for the striking similarity of their eyes.

“She's you,” I said. “This is you before…”

“Before I asked your grandmother for immortality,” said Beast. “Yes. This was me. My name was Beauty.”

“It still is,” I said. “A name can't be taken away.”

“Yes, a great load of good it's doing me now, isn't it?” she said wryly.

I looked down at my feet. Though we say your name is your destiny, and parents choose names carefully, it's not a guarantee for a happily-ever-after. Mistakes can be made, tragedy can occur, and other people's destinies can get tangled with your own and make a mess. I'd gotten tangled up in such messes before, and now I was dishing them out right and left. Goldie, Borlen, Wolf…maybe even Beast.

Beast stared at her former beautiful self with longing. I wondered how many hours she spent here, just wishing to be beautiful again.

Something moved in a mirror to my left, a shadow shifting in a thick forest. It was hazy and far away, so I couldn't tell what it was.

Beast cleared her throat. “I received a message from your granny.”

I whipped around and faced Beast. “You did? When? How is she?” My heart ballooned with hope.

“She's alive. She hoped the castle was feeding you well and asked me to remind you to wash behind your ears.”

“That's all?” My heart deflated.

“She gave me a message, too. She told me to take a look in the mirror and remember.”

“Remember what?” I asked.

“How to break the curse.”

I gaped. “She
told
you how to break the curse?” Granny never
told
someone how to break a curse. She skirted, hinted, and teased, but never would she tell you exactly what to do. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Love life more than you fear death.' ”

I frowned. “That's it? All you have to do is love life?”

“More than I fear death.”

“But how can you control that? How can anyone
choose
not to be afraid?”

“If I knew, I would not look like this,” said Beast. “And if you knew, you would not be here, would you?”

I looked down at my cloak and rubbed the edges between my fingers, then glanced back to the mirror where the beast was reflected as Beauty. I understood her a little better now. How could she love life as a beast? And how could she not fear death as Beauty? It seemed upside down and inside out, and I was having difficulty not resenting Granny at that moment.

I turned away from Beast's beautiful reflection, and a movement caught my gaze. In the other mirror, shadows came together and took the shape of a figure. But Beast paid no attention to it.

“It is a hard thing to lose someone you love,” said Beast. “But perhaps the harder thing to lose is yourself.” Beast looked back in the mirror at her beautiful reflection. “We lose ourselves when we're afraid.”

“Is that why you asked Granny to make you live forever?” I asked. “Because you were afraid?”

“I am still afraid,” said Beast. “But I've learned at least one thing.”

“What?” I asked.

“Life is like a story. It doesn't mean anything if it doesn't end.”

My heart squeezed in my chest, for this felt true to me, however painful. It's not that I needed Granny to live forever. I just couldn't imagine a time when I wouldn't need her.

“If I could just…” But the words swelled in my throat. My eyes burned.

Beast put a gentle paw on my shoulder and turned me toward her. I looked up into her furry face, so monstrous, and yet somehow softer and kinder than many human faces I'd seen. “I am what I am because I was afraid.”

I dried the traitorous tears running down my cheeks. “You're not so bad,” I said. “I've met uglier humans, at least on the inside.”

“Humans can be pretty beastly, can't they?”

I nodded. Funny that we always tell stories with wolves and beasts and demons as villains, but in real life it seems the humans are always the worst enemies. You could be your own villain.

“I know you want Granny to turn you back into a princess, but she can't. Truly.” I said the words gently, without rage or malice.

Beast nodded, resigned to the truth, but no happier about it.

“You'll find a way to break the curse yourself,” I said. “Granny must have known that. She would never have cast a spell that would have truly cursed you forever.”

Beast nodded. “Your granny seems to be a very wise witch.”

“She is.”

“And because she is so wise, she will not live forever.”

I looked away. My throat tightened, so I couldn't speak. Though I knew Beast was right, I still couldn't look the truth directly in the eye.

“She will want to see you strong,” said Beast. “Before it's too late.”

I looked up. “You mean we can go?”

Beast nodded. “Keeping you won't do me any good. At least, it won't change anything.”

But I did see a glimmer of change in her, just a small ray of hope that the curse would be broken one day, somehow. I thought Granny would be proud of Beast in that moment.

“Thank you, Beauty,” I said, and turned to leave.

“Red?” said Beast.

“Yes?” I said, turning back.

“Don't be afraid.”

I heard Granny's words echoing in my head.

Don't be afraid, Red.

She had said it when I first tried to use the magic inside me. She said it when I was leaving to try to find a cure for her.

Red, don't be afraid.

I so wanted to be brave, truly brave, not just strong and fierce. I thought I was beginning to know how.

“Red!” I heard Goldie shouting from outside the room. She sounded frantic. I ran to the door, and she came barreling through, panting. “Where have you been? I woke up and you were gone and I was hungry and the room wouldn't give me any food and who are all these people?” She gaped at the hundreds of Beauties and Reds and Goldies reflected in all the mirrors.

“It's okay, Goldie. They're just mirrors.”

“My hair is an awful mess,” she said.

Beast chuckled, probably thinking how she wouldn't mind messy hair instead of all her fur.

“Goldie, we can go home now,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “We can?” She looked from me to Beast. We both nodded.

“Is your granny going to break the curse, then? Will she be a princess again?”

“Not yet,” I said. I looked back to the mirror where the image of Beauty was now turned toward us.

“Who's that?” Goldie pointed.

“Her name is Beauty,” I said.

“Not her. The person next to her.”

I shifted my gaze. The other figure in the mirror was much closer now. He was out of The Woods and walking through the rose garden, seemingly walking right toward the mirror. The figure had a stiff gait and was covered with what looked like furs, with a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. “It's Horst,” I said.

“Where is he? Can he see us?” Goldie asked.

Horst came closer and closer, so close that if he walked any farther, he'd walk straight through the mirror. But he stopped just behind Beast's beautiful reflection and squinted his old eyes as though searching for something. Beast growled a little at Horst's image.

“Do you know him?” I asked Beast.

Beast did not answer. Horst nocked an arrow, pointing it straight at Beast. She stared at the hunter in the mirror, frozen like a poor animal caught in a trap.

Horst released the arrow. The mirror shattered, bits and shards of glass exploding in every direction. I grabbed Goldie and pulled her into the protection of my cloak. Beast roared. When the glass settled, I looked up. Beast had an arrow in her leg.

And there was Horst, standing amidst the shattered glass, his face stony and unreadable. Without a word, he grabbed another arrow and shot Beast in the other leg. She roared again and collapsed to her front paws.

“No!” I shouted at Horst, punching him as hard as I could, which hurt my hand quite a bit and Horst not at all. His stomach was as hard as rock. He looked down at me as though I were a harmless bug, until something big and solid crashed into another mirror. A gargoyle. Another came down, and another. They snarled and lunged at Horst, but Horst didn't even flinch at the stone monsters. He punched one directly in the face, crushing the stone as though it were brittle bone. Another attacked him from behind, but Horst grabbed it and threw it across the room.

Beast had now pulled the arrows out of her legs and was struggling to stand. Horst nocked another arrow.

“Stop! Stop! Don't hurt her!” Goldie cried.

I moved to attack Horst at the same time as a gargoyle. Its stone wing clipped me on the back of my head, swift and hard. I stumbled back. The room went bright. It spun and shattered like the broken mirror, and then all went black.

I woke in a dimly lit room with a wolf staring down at me. I sat up quickly and then cried out as my head exploded.

“You're awake!” Goldie jumped to my side. “She's awake!” she said to someone else.

“Careful,” said a gruff voice. “That gargoyle smacked you good and hard. You're going to have to take it easy.”

Horst stood beside me, holding a steaming cup. I took a sip and immediately spat it out. It was horribly bitter.

“Drink it,” said Horst. “It will help with the pain.”

I drank two big gulps, and the pain did ease a bit. My head became clear enough to remember that I had seen a wolf. I looked up. Its head was mounted to the wall.

I swallowed my own scream.
It's all right. It's okay. This is the huntsman's home, after all.

The walls were covered with the skins and heads of every sort of beast of The Woods. Deer, moose, bears, mountain lions, jackrabbits, and wolves. I counted six wolves on the wall, teeth bared, with shiny black stones for eyes. Was this Wolf's pack, hunted and hung on a wall? My heart ached for Wolf. I trembled and clutched the blanket in my fists, only to feel that it was also fur. The hair was brown and matted. It reminded me of Beast. I flung it off me.

“You shot Beast!” I shouted at Horst. “You killed her!” I lunged at Horst, but the room spun and I collapsed back on the bed.

“Easy there,” said Horst. “I promise you, Miss Red, I didn't kill the beast. Injured her, perhaps, but she'll heal soon enough and live to be a beast for another thousand years, cursed as she is.”

I closed my eyes and breathed until the room was still again. Horst was right. Beast couldn't be killed, no matter what. The arrow and the shattered glass had made me panic and forget that Beast could not die. She didn't need my help.

“Then…you know about Beast's curse?” I asked.

Horst nodded.

“How did you know Beast was holding us prisoner?” I asked.

Horst seemed caught off guard by the question. “Your granny…She told me a beast was holding you captive. She asked me to rescue you. She couldn't in her condition, of course.”

This didn't sound like Granny. She firmly believed people should rescue themselves, but then, she was ill, possibly out of her mind, and I was her only grandchild.

“I have to get to Granny,” I said, trying to stand up again, but Horst restrained me.

“Hold on there, little Red. Not so fast. That gargoyle gave you a right nasty smack in the head.”

“Did you see him fight the gargoyles?” Goldie asked. “He ripped off one of their arms like an ear of corn!”

Horst smiled. “I have a good amount of strength when the situation calls for it.”

“We were fine,” I said. “Beast was letting us go when you came.”

“Well, she shouldn't have taken you in the first place. What a horrible thing to do to two little girls.”

Yes, it had been horrible at first, but the beast wasn't so bad in the end. Funny how that works. Sometimes things in life seem okay in the beginning but then turn out to be horrible. The problem is, you can't really know until it's too late.

Horst put more wood on the fire.

“I'm hungry,” said Goldie. “At the castle, we'd be having breakfast now.”

Horst took out some dried meat from his satchel and handed us each a piece, taking none for himself. Goldie stared at the shriveled jerky. “At the castle, we would have had porridge with honey,” she said.

“Well, I don't have any honey,” said Horst, a slight edge to his voice. We ate the meat. It was tough and salty. We could barely tear through it with our back teeth, but after looking at all the animals on the walls, I didn't much care to eat anyway.

“Now,” said Horst when Goldie had given up on her leathery meal, “something tells me you didn't end up at the enchanted castle by accident. You were looking for something, weren't you? Perhaps some roses?”

I glanced at Goldie.

“I told him you were trying to save your granny,” said Goldie. “He already knew about The Red Roses.”

I shifted, uncomfortable under Horst's intense gaze.

“You failed to retrieve the roses, but I think I may have what you're looking for,” said Horst. I thought of the rhyme I had found in Beast's library, but I felt uneasy. The wolves on the wall seemed to call to me, warning me to leave.

Go,
they said.

“I really need to get home to Granny,” I said. “I think I can walk just fine now.”

“But don't you want to save your granny?” Horst asked. “Your friend said she was dying. If there was a way to save her, to keep her from death, wouldn't you want to know?”

I thought back on my journey. The Wine Well. The Red Roses. So far, each magic had come at too high a price. But there was one magic left that I had not fully explored. What if it really could save Granny? Should I turn my back on one last chance?

“Do you know anything about Magic Hearts?” I asked.

Horst smiled a little. “It sounds familiar. I will share my secrets, but in return, I need to know yours.”

“I don't have any secrets,” I said.

“Oh, everyone has secrets, and I believe little witches have the best secrets of all, don't you agree?” Horst's eyes were dark and glassy in the dim light. They looked hungry.

“Let me tell you a story,” Horst said.

“Does it have a princess in it?” Goldie asked. “I only like stories with princesses.”

“It does indeed.” Horst cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair. It reminded me of when Beast had told me her story in the library, but it was different. A chill crept up my arms as I listened to Horst, like a spider creeping slowly up my arm.

“Once upon a time,” said the huntsman, “an evil queen ruled The Kingdom. She was jealous of her step-child, the princess Snow White.”

Goldie sighed with exasperation. “Not that one! We've all heard it a thousand times. The queen tries to kill Snow White, so she goes to live with dwarves, and then the queen tries to kill her again with a poisoned apple, but then a prince comes along and kisses her awake.”

“Yes,” said Horst, looking slightly annoyed. “That is one version of the story. I'm going to tell you another. Now, before the poisoned apple, the queen ordered a huntsman to take the girl deep into The Woods and kill her. He was told to bring the girl's heart as proof of her death.”

The hair at the nape of my neck prickled. Huntsman. A heart. Horst couldn't possibly have been that huntsman. The story was over a hundred years old.

“But he didn't kill the princess,” said Goldie.

“No,” said Horst. “The huntsman had killed many a beast in his lifetime, but he could not bear to kill such an innocent child, so he let her go, and then he killed a boar and took its heart to the queen and told her it was the heart of the princess. The queen intended to eat the heart for her victory feast. However, the queen, being greedy and vain, wanted to hear straightaway from her magic mirror that she was the fairest in all The Kingdom. But the mirror revealed that the princess Snow White was still alive. ‘Not so,' said the queen. ‘For here I have proof of her death. Her heart!' But the mirror had seen everything and told the queen how the huntsman had deceived her. Faster than he could draw an arrow, he was seized and thrown into the dungeon.”

“The poor man!” said Goldie. “It's so unfair.”

“For days, the queen gave the huntsman no food or water. He was on the brink of death, barely able to move, when finally she came to him.

“ ‘Please,' said the huntsman. He reached his hand toward the queen, begging her to save him. The queen gave him no bread or water but placed in his hand the boar's heart he had brought to her instead of Snow White's.

“ ‘This will be your last supper, huntsman,' said the queen, and she left him, never to return again.

“The huntsman clutched that heart to his chest and waited to die. Except he did not die. The huntsman stayed alive for weeks and months. There was no food or water, nothing in his cell except the heart. After several months, he realized it was the heart, still clutched tightly to his chest, that kept him alive. And not only did it keep him alive, it made him strong, so strong that he dug himself out of the dungeon. He clawed through the stone, dug through the dirt, until he reached the outside world. Free! Alive! And famished. He became suddenly weak and tired. His joints stiffened. His muscles seized. He knew that whatever magic the heart had given him was now fading. He needed more.

“So he took the heart of another boar, and his power was restored. He took other hearts, too. Goats, sheep, deer, even bears, mountain lions, and wolves. Each beast made him stronger. And with his many hearts, the huntsman lived happily ever after.

“The end.”

Horst sat back, a sadistic grin on his face. Goldie looked at me, her mouth open in horror. This was not what I had expected. I had assumed The Magic Hearts had something to do with love.
The best magic comes from the heart.
But according to Horst's story, they were actual
hearts.
That's what Horst carried in the pouch hung around his neck—the heart of whatever beast was giving him his power. He was tugging at it now, staring at me, and I knew what he wanted.

The wolves on the wall howled for me to go.
Leave. Run.

“That wasn't a very good story,” said Goldie, apparently unaware of the truth of Horst's tale.

“You don't think so?” Horst seemed amused.

Goldie shook her head. “There wasn't even a true love's kiss.”

Horst scoffed. “True love. Perhaps that's all fine and well for brave knights and fair damsels, but what about the rest of us? You could live a lifetime and never find true love. I've seen it over and over. And even if you do find love, what then? It's not as powerful as the stories always say. Is true love going to keep you alive? Will it make you strong? No.”

“Yes!” said Goldie. “When I find true love, it will!”

Horst shook his head. “Love cannot give you power.
Living.
Defying death. That's power.”

“And you hold that power, don't you?” I blurted. “You're the huntsman in the story, and those are your Magic Hearts.” I gestured to the pouch around his neck.

Horst smiled. “Clever girl.”

Goldie looked between us. “Wait. You mean
you're
the one who almost killed Snow White? But…that happened hundreds of years ago!”

“Two hundred and twenty-three years, to be precise.”

“You took Granny's pigs,” I spat. “For their hearts. And the wolves…” I gritted my teeth. “You killed Wolf's pack.” Everything was coming into sharp focus. Why hadn't I seen this all before? His age, his pitiful, bumbling slowness, had pulled the wool over my eyes, kept me from seeing what he really was.

“Come now,” said Horst. “You don't think those vicious wolves would have done the same to me, given the chance? And I needed those pigs. I daresay they would have met the same end without me.”

“You're a huntsman, aren't you? Seems awfully cowardly to hunt helpless pigs in a pen.”

Horst's composure faltered ever so slightly. “The animals…they've become aware of me. They hide and flee before I can catch them, and poor old Horst must have something.”

I thought of how still and silent The Woods had been at times along our journey—when Horst was near. It was meaningless to me then, but I understood it now. It was as if they could sense the sinister magic in Horst, his brutal intentions, and now I could feel it, too, crawling all over my arms and neck like spiders.

“And now,” said Horst, “let's talk about your friend, the wolf. I'd like a word with him.”

“Friend?” I said, forcing a laugh. “Wolves are very dangerous creatures. I don't see how I can help you.”

“You're not fooling me,” said Horst. “Your little friend Goldie told me all about it, how the wolf trusts you, how he follows you around like a puppy.”

Goldie was shaking her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I'm sorry, Red! I didn't know! I didn't know he was so horrible! I thought he'd understand.”

“Indeed, I do!” said Horst. “I understand better than anyone. You wish to keep your grandmother alive, and I have the same wish for myself. What do you say, little Red? Shall we go for a walk? Shall we meet a wolf? They are particularly valuable to me.”

“You've said that before. Why? Why are they
particularly
valuable?”

“It has to do with the magic inside the heart, you see,” said Horst. “The more powerful the animal, the more powerful the heart, the longer it keeps me going. A moose gives me a solid month. A mountain lion, two, and one bear heart can keep me going for nearly three. But wolves…” Horst looked directly at me. “Wolves are the real prize. Wolves can keep me going for
years.
”

“Then you should be safe for quite a while,” I said, glancing at the wolf heads on the walls, their dead eyes so cold and empty.

“Ah, but that's the interesting thing about wolves. Wolves are social creatures, unified and loyal. That's where their magic comes from. Their hearts work as one, as a pack. In order to get the magic from one, I need them all, and once I have them all, it might just be enough magic to share with someone else. Someone very sick, nearly dying…”

My blood ran cold. I shook my head.

“I can save your granny,” said Horst. “Keep her from dying for a long, long time, maybe even forever.
You
could live forever, too.”

Eternal life. It sounded like good magic. Anything that makes you live and grow is good, right? But the hearts…though they kept Horst alive, I didn't think they made him grow and blossom, as Granny said good magic should. He was twisted and corrupt—cursed, maybe more so than Beast. Granny would never wish for such a fate. She wouldn't even consider it.