The Beast (6 page)

Gastone held his arms out, waiting for Belle to step into them. She took a deep breath and moved into position. Belle’s red and green dress hugged her frame—and she could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric as they waited for the change in music.

Gastone moved with its cue. Belle followed, letting him guide her about the floor. It was slow and gentle. Gastone had the grace of a lord’s son. His eyes trailed along her face, causing a blush to rise into her cheeks.

The way he looked at her—the way they danced together—it was new, but somehow familiar. Like she’d known they would dance together her whole life. Too soon, the song came to an end.

“Gastone, that is not how you dance with a woman,” Jack said as they stepped apart.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Gastone smiled boldly. “Does the Yank think he can do better?”

“Absolutely!” Jack pushed to his feet, tossing his napkin aside and walked around the table. He met Gastone’s challenging stare as they past one another. “Ladies love to dance. They dance often and with nearly anyone who offers. The key is to give them a dance they’ll remember.”

He pulled Belle into his arms, not bothering too much with posture. He leaned over to look at Jean. “Give us something fast.”

“Oh!” Henri jumped over to the piano, tinkered with some dials and started cranking.

When he finished, a set of dual violins, displayed in a glass compartment at the top of the piano, came to life. Their bows scraped along their strings, fiddling out a tune to get toes tapping. Jean picked up the song, and soon Jack was twirling Belle around the floor.

They laughed and smiled, moving through the fast steps. Delano and Nicolas started clapping to the rhythm, which the whole room picked up. Jack’s style was nothing like Gastone’s. He didn’t hesitate to throw an arm around her waist or to spin her so fast, she’d fall without him. The dance ended with a flourish, leaving her flushed and breathless.

“Wonderful! Just wonderful.” Henri came over as Jack and Belle bowed to one another. He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’d say now was a good time for presents, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” Belle put a hand to her stomach, trying to catch her breath, and laughed. “Better now, before Jack does me in!”

They moved into the parlor, which was done up in ribbons and evergreens. A large tree sat in the corner, decorated to the fullest and bundled by presents. Belle sat on the loveseat as the Hunters found spots around the room.

The great clock above the fireplace ticked to the next hour. Many oversized gears ornamenting the hearth danced, their teeth rocking together. Puffs of steam issued forth as the gears movement reached the brass bells above the clock.
Ding. Dang. Dong.
The sound moved through and around her. Belle sighed; that sound was home.

“Wonderful!” Henri entered last, heading straight for the hearth. “Our timing is impeccable.”

As the last bell tolled, a hidden compartment above the mantel opened. A thin arm, holding a delicate teacup and saucer perturbed. Likewise, out came a pitcher. The arm tilted, pouring dark coffee into the flowered porcelain. Steam rolled into the air as Henri reached over to accept the hot beverage.

“Wonderful. Wonderful,” he mumbled to himself and inhaled the steam. “Would anyone else care for a cup?”

When all declined, Belle’s father turned a rather well-concealed knob. The metal arms retracted, taking the pitcher with it. The door then flipped shut to hide the compartment once more.

“Confound it!” Henri nearly shouted, suddenly glaring at the hearth. Belle discreetly covered her mouth, stifling her snicker. Her father slammed his fist against the wall. “Blast this thing, give me my pipe!”

Noisily the hearth clunked and moaned. With a sigh, a different compartment door popped open. Inside, held up by two small pedestals, was Henri’s smoking pipe. He reached in and snatched the pipe with vigor, placing it between his lips and softly inhaling.

A smile quirked the corner of his lips. “Now let us open presents!”

In no time, the presents were all opened. The boys had worked together on her gifts. Andre had bought her the design plans for a dress. Jack purchased ribbons for her hair. Jean, Delano, and Nicolas had selected the fabrics. Then with Gastone’s present of a lovely burgundy top hat, an outfit was in the works.

Jack was just thanking Jean for his new cowboy hat when the last present beneath the tree started to slide out. Pixie, Belle’s childhood mechanical fairy, pushed from behind. Her metal was green, her eyes slanted black opals, and she was small enough to fit in a woman’s hand. She huffed with mock effort and left the gift at Henri’s feet.

“Well merci, Pixie.” He reached down and picked up the small brown parcel.

Pixie parted her lips and a string of musical notes tumbled out—in lieu of a “you’re welcome”. Her voice box was a tiny version of the cylinder and comb mechanism used in music boxes. When Pixie opened her mouth, the instrument could be seen turning at the back of her throat. Leaping, her metal wings carried her over to the fire where she pretended to warm her tiny hands and posterior.

“The present is from you, Belle.” Henri smiled, ruffling his thick white mustache. He tore off the heavy paper. Beneath was a polished wooden box with the words,
Liberty Watch Co.
, engraved on the lid. “Oh, the famous watch company in America?”

“Open it,” she prompted.

Needing no further encouragement, Henri drew back the lid. Sitting safely among white satin was a pocket watch. The timepiece’s face was brass with a leaf-etching design. Pulling out the watch, its chain dangling around his fingers, Henri pressed the top and it snapped open. The numbers were elegant and dainty. But the thing that made this watch unique was its back. Instead of brass coverings, the inner workings were protected by clear glass. Henri was likely already imagining the little cogs ticking away behind their glass wall.

“My fille, this is wonderful. Merci.” He tugged Belle into a hug. “It’s your turn now. Come everyone!”

Henri ushered them all out of the parlor and into his workroom. Every inch of the space was taken by tools, gadgets, spare parts, and gizmos. There were a slew of strange, abandoned inventions on one counter. On the wall were blueprints for projects yet to be undertaken. Henri walked over to a large, covered object; his invention for the World Fair. Everyone gathered around, eager to see it for the first time.

“I’d like to present to everyone the Responsibly Fiscal Currency Counter—Or just Currency Counter, as I’m sure they’ll call it.” With a flourish, Henri then ripped the white sheet off of his invention.

The brass machine was beautiful. The front was made of glass, with tubes inside for each sized coin. The gold tinted sides were decorated with fauna accents. A large man-shaped hand rested at the top.

“Will you demonstrate it for us?” Nicolas asked with eagerness.

Henri held up a finger to stave him off. Pointing to another covered object, this one much smaller, he said, “That is for Belle.”

Feeling so proud of her father, Belle took hold of the sheet and whipped it away. There was a miniature version of Henri’s invention underneath. He pulled a coin out of his pocket and slid it between the fingers of the much smaller hand.

“I give you, the Responsibly Fiscal Currency Counter—At Home Version.” Yanking a lever on the other side, the device started to purr as tiny puffs of steam rose out of a pipe in the back. The fingers tightened around the coin, then moved along the tubes and released it into the correct spot.

They applauded, giving Henri plenty of praise. He took it in stride, agreeing to demonstrate the larger unit several times and answering all their questions. After a bit, Belle pointed out the late hour and reminded them of tonight’s hunt. As everyone left to get ready, Henri asked her to wait a moment.

“You have one last gift.” He placed a thin, sealed letter in her hand. “I’m going upstairs to finish packing. I’ll see you when you return.”

With a kiss to the cheek, he left her alone.

Belle turned the letter over in her hands. There was no name on it, but the seal she recognized. It was the Chevallier family crest. This was a letter from Gastone. Sliding a finger along the parchment to break the seal, her mouth went dry.

Belle reread the letter three times. Her heart raced as though she’d been dancing with Jack. Suddenly she understood the change in Gastone. More than a few times in her life, she’d imagined what it would be like to marry him. What girl hadn’t? But never—not once—did she ever think it was a real possibility. All of the pieces seemed to have fallen into place now. Except, as she clutched the parchment to her chest, she wondered…did she love him?

“Snowstorm?” she asked him.

“It just crossed my mind.” He looked up at the sky, glaring through the increasing darkness.

They’d all spent enough time outside to recognize coming weather. It was in the way the clouds moved and the feel of the air. Snowstorms had a way of sneaking in, eclipsing the sky without anyone noticing. When they unleashed their power, it filled every space and shrank the world down to mere inches. It could be terrifying—and deadly.

Gastone rode Magnanimous up. “Do we turn back or proceed?”

Nervousness shot through her chest at the sight of him. Belle was suddenly so aware of Gastone. He was a man. An attractive man. A man who was interested in her. Was she interested in him? She honestly didn’t know. Searching herself, Belle couldn’t see past the fear and uncertainty that had taken up residence in her stomach. If she could get away from him, then maybe she could relax…and breathe.

“We proceed,” Belle said, pushing the love nonsense aside and focusing on the issue at hand. “My father needs the forest clear for his trip in the morning. If we don’t, his men could be overwhelmed. So we hunt.”

They rode the rest of the way to the border, stopping just at the tree line. Loud engines came to life with the sound of massive mechanical workings cranking together. Belle looked behind her, toward the noise and the Norwegian Sea. Arm-like beams, which secured their metal-domed house to the cliff side, now moved it away from the land. Systematically, it lowered out of sight and into the crashing seas below. There it was safe from all manner of storm and hellish creature. Only the lighthouse and fortified stable remained above.

Belle turned back to the dark forest. She lowered her head and the men followed suit.

“Oh Holy Angel,” she began the prayer, her voice a solo sound in the night. “Attendant of our wretched souls and afflicted life.”

“Forsake us not.” The men joined her, the rumble of their words mingling smoothly with hers. “Give no place to the evil demon to subdue us with the oppression of these mortal bodies.” The gas lamps began to ignite—one pair at time—throughout the woods and winding paths. “But take us by our outstretched hands, and guide our weapons to smite the minions of hell who now walk the earth.” The light flickered through her closed eyelids, reminding Belle of church candles. “As warring angels of God, we give blood for the blood of the demon possessed, should He so choose it. Pardon us for the evil we must do in thy name, For we deliver to thee the souls of all the lost departed from the pains of hell and from the bottomless pit.” As the Hunter’s Creed came to a close, they formed the cross over their heads and torsos. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

They raised their heads and opened their eyes. Belle looked at each one of them, then set out first into the woods. The Hunters followed, each taking side paths that spread them out along the border. Soon Belle was alone, with only Charming and the beating of her heart for company.

The first snowflakes to fall came down in a rush of speed. Steadily over the next few hours it increased. The snow now fell at a slant, pelting her face. The wind howled through the trees, like the wail of a sea monster. Belle and Charming huddled into themselves, their backs to the wind.

Her Electro-Phonic Chip crackled.

“I need help.
Christ.
I need it now.” Delano’s voice was weak, broken up by interference from the storm, but she heard his panic clear enough.