The Beast (2 page)

He sneers. His chains drop loudly to the
floor as he reaches down, never taking his eyes off me. The chair
leg he grasps is still loosely attached to the rest of its body.
The chained wild thing stomps on it viciously to sever the
connection.

He looks at it, then at me, as though
weighing his options. Clearly dissatisfied, he hurls the broken
piece of wood onto the voracious flame.

Undaunted, I gather some cushions and make a
nest of sorts where the light is bright enough to read by and
settle in. “Now then—” I scream as a vase shatters a mere hand
width from me. Shards explode all around me, I can feel them rain
onto my hair.

“Get out!” he roars.

Louis rushes in, sword drawn, taking a stand
between me and the crazed master of this castle.

The chained beast laughs, a sound full of
hatred. The guard is no more a threat to him than I am, and he
knows it.

“My lady, are you hurt?”

“My lady,” my host mimics cruelly. “Get her
out of my sight,” he orders. “She is not to step foot in here
again.” He turns to address me directly. “I may not be able to get
rid of you, but I fucking well don’t have to look at you while
you’re here.”

My heart is racing, but I will it to calm. “I
am all right, thank you Louis.”

“Perhaps you should—”

“I am not going anywhere,” I tell him, hardly
wincing at my sharp tone. “I have a book to read.”

“I ordered you to remove her!”

Louis lowers his sword, incensing his master
beyond reason. “Then may I suggest moving out of the line of fire,
my lady?”

I want to argue, but my ungracious host is
already reaching for another weapon. “Yes, that is a wonderful
idea.”

Louis calls for a mirror, so that I may still
see the beast from around the corner. He breaks it immediately, but
it remains in place. When everything is ready, Louis leaves and I
settle in once more.

“Now then,” I say. “The Little Red Riding
Hood.”

I sit until my legs go numb. I read until my
voice is hoarse. Through the bluster, the curses and threats,
through the constant onslaught of anything and everything he can
throw, I read to him.

He screams. Vows to kill me, tear me apart
with his bare hands, and things far worse. I believe him. If not
for the chains, I know he would cause me every pain a man can
possibly inflict on a woman. This is the true beast of the
castle.

And for the first time, I truly believe he
deserved his curse. I want the monster to suffer, because I know
that everything he threatens, he has done before. This… thing, the
demon wearing a human mask is so different from the creature I have
come to know and love that I can hardly believe they are one and
the same.

Tears blur the words on the page.
What am
I to do?

I can think of nothing else, but to
persevere. I cannot fight him on his terms. And so I must be
patient and wait him out, somehow coax him to fight by my rules.
For now, I have my book.

He has no more things to throw, but I can
still hear him raging. I glance up and see dozens of his
reflections in the broken mirror. He is tearing his bed apart,
linens, mattress, everything to get to the wooden frame.

I duck my head and read on.

The frame shatters. I brace for another wave
of attack.

It doesn’t come.

I hear him groan; look up to see him doubled
over, clutching his head.

He screams in terrible pain and, before my
very eyes, he begins to change.

I lose my breath, the book forgotten. The
clock face is broken, it no longer ticks to tell the time. But I
can see faint light vaguely outline the draperies.

Dawn.

The transformation is gruesome and brings me
to my feet. My legs nearly buckle, but I stumble to the doorway,
terrified for the man-beast in the destroyed room.

He screams and roars, shaking with pain, and
grief, and such horrible shame. My heart bleeds, weeping for him. I
fall to my knees, helpless to do anything but watch.

When it is finally, blessedly over, my Beast
bows his head, looking utterly exhausted. His rumbling breaths are
a comfort like nothing I’ve ever known.

I cannot give up on the monster of a man. For
this gentle, tormented Beast, I must fight on. I must find a way to
free him.

“I’m here,” I sob.

He stops breathing. His massive head raises,
and blue eyes meet mine. He looks stunned, disbelieving.

I smile, try to offer what little comfort I
can.

My Beast makes a sound like a mortally
wounded animal. His leonine face drops into his claws and he turns
away from me. “Leave me,” he says.

Utter, soul shattering defeat makes me
obey.

I stand before the gates of Hell for the
third time. I cannot say what brings me here tonight. By all
rights, I should be fleeing this place, never to look back. Last
night inspired a new flare of despair among the castle’s residents.
They look at me now, and I know they wonder the same thing I
do.

Why is she still here?

Why do this?

Could it work?

They fear me now, and despise me. I give them
reason to hope. So long as their master suffers his curse, they,
too, are bound to this place. Never to leave, never to change,
until he does. The curse is eternal. There is not one man, woman,
or child in this place who will tell me how long it has already
lasted. And if I build up their hopes for release and fail…

I should leave. Standing here before the
closed portal, I want to leave.

The door seems far heavier than it did the
night before last when I finally push it open.

Someone – Jacques, I believe – ordered the
chambers to be cleaned. There is nothing in the anteroom now, aside
from lit wall sconces and that broken mirror. It is covered now. I
push the tattered velvet aside to expose the cracked surface. I
have not yet dared to look into the main chamber. I want the
reflection to lessen the impact of its appearance, but it does
not.

The monster’s bedroom is empty as well. Save
for a pallet on the floor and wood enough to last the night, there
is nothing. It resembles a cave; a wounded animal’s den.

To my shock, he looks wounded. Curled on the
pallet on the floor, swaddled in a torn blanket, he shivers. It
seems he has not yet realized I am here. He looks so much like my
Beast did this morning after the transformation, I feel compelled
to go to him. I stop my feet from crossing the threshold. This
might be precisely what he is waiting for.

“Are you ill?” I ask.

The man on the floor, looking utterly
pathetic, opens one eye, just barely. He moans. “You again.” His
voice seems weak. What is this? Some sort of elaborate trick?
“Haven’t I run you out yet?” A massive shudder passes through
him.

“What is the matter with you? Should I call
for help?”

“Mind your own fucking business,” he snarls,
but though his voice is cold as ice, I can see the effort it takes
him to utter the words.

I trace my steps back to the door. Louis is
standing guard in the hallway again. I ask him to have a chaise
brought to the anteroom. Within moments, two footmen come bearing
the heavy piece of furniture. The monster watches this with
seething hatred, but does not utter a sound until they leave.

“Why are you still here?”

It is the same question I see in every face
and every set of eyes in this castle. “Because I love the Beast,
and so I must learn to love you, too. You and he are one and the
same.”

He scoffs and it turns into a cough. “Is that
what he told you?”

“That is not necessary. I’ve seen it with my
own eyes.”

“Horse shit,” he says. “You cannot possibly
understand, unless you feel it on your own skin.”

I am becoming inured to his profanities.
“Enlighten me, then.”

That one eye opens again, mocking me. “Come
closer,” he says.

“No.”

He chuckles and his body shudders again. When
he speaks, his teeth are clenched and his voice strained, as though
he has no control over his movements. “There is another way to
break the curse. I’d bet this castle he hasn’t told you that.”

He is toying with me. I know this, and yet I
still strain forward to hear more. “How?”

“By the simple fact that he and I are
not
one and the same.” He pulls the blanket closer around
him, curling more in on himself. “Only one can exist at any one
time and that moping bastard somehow managed to get the full month,
while I have to make do with three days of it. We are each other’s
obstacle. Get rid of the obstacle and the possibilities are
endless.”

“Get rid of… you mean kill?
Kill
one
of you?”

“Why do you think they chain me? It can’t be
done by someone affected by the curse. But accidents do
happen.”

“You would kill yourself?”

His laugh is pure evil. “Stupid bitch. Why
would I do that?”

I feel cold and put my feet up on the chaise
like a little child frightened of the dark.

He sees. The monster struggles to sit up,
mirroring my pose, but even in his condition he makes it look much
more threatening than weak. His eyes reflect the fire’s golden
glow, making them look almost green. “So tell me,
Savior
,”
he says the word as an insult. “Would you kill me to forever free
the beast? Or would you free the man to reclaim his home and his
life?”

I do not see my Beast the next day. Or the
day after, or the day after that. Not a glimpse, not one word. It
is as though he is not in the castle any longer. Life goes on as it
always has: The maids clean, the chefs cook, the gardeners tend the
blooms and orchards. I am presented with magnificent feasts at each
meal, but I eat them alone. I stroll the beautiful grounds around
this majestic structure, but my step is heavy with loneliness.

I have much on my mind, and I imagine my
Beast does as well.

But I hear the servants whispering. They will
not tell me directly, no doubt for fear of their master.
Nevertheless, on the sixth day, I learn the reason for the
monster’s weakened condition on that final, awful night, as well as
the absence of my host now.

On my way to the library, resigned to yet
another day without my Beast, I come upon two maids in the dining
room. Their voices carry through the door and I quietly ease to it
to better hear Jocelyn speaking to her aunt Aimee.

“Why would he do it?” the girl on the verge
of becoming a woman asks. “He could have died!”

“The master is too clever for that,” Aimee
replies, but I can hear uncertainty in her voice.

“He must have known the lady Lyssette could
handle herself with him. She’s done it before. She’s seen him at
his worst!”

“Child, it is not so simple a thing,” Aimee
says patiently.

I cautiously peek through the key hole.

“Do not call me that,” Jocelyn says and
stomps her foot. “I am not a child anymore. I haven’t been for a
long time.”

Aimee’s hands pause while smoothing the
linens they are folding. She looks as though Jocelyn’s words hurt
her. “I know,” she says. “But there are things you can only
understand when you fall in love. It is not the lady Lyssette the
master doesn’t trust. It is himself. It is because she’s seen him
at his worst that he wanted to protect her from it.”

“And so he poisoned himself to keep her
safe?”

I gasp, and my hand flies to my mouth to
muffle the sound. My heart races and I feel faint.
Poison?
The word… the idea that he would do such a thing for my sake makes
me ill. No, it cannot be true. Surely, Jocelyn is mistaken.

“Leave be, Jocelyn,” Aimee says. She does not
correct the girl. She does not offer another explanation.

I seek the wall for support as my legs go
weak. It is true, then. He poisoned himself to keep the monster
docile. Did he… could he have known that his words are as much a
weapon as his powerful arms?

“But he could have died!” Jocelyn insists
with so much feeling, it sounds as though she is on the verge of
tears. She sounds the way I feel. Frantic, hurt, astonished that
the Beast would do such a thing. She sounds as if she would race to
his chambers at once to berate him for his recklessness, or perhaps
to nurse him back to health.

Aimee hears the same thing I do. “Jocelyn!”
she hisses sternly. “You must stop this wretched infatuation. You
know you cannot break the curse for him. Remember your place, girl!
You’re a maid in the master’s household. Nothing more.”

I wonder how long the girl has loved her
master. Since the beginning? Did she love him before he became
cursed? Did he make her believe he could love her back?
Would
he have loved her back, if I hadn’t come along?

Jocelyn was always kind to me, as all the
others were. She would be my chamber maid, had I not insisted that
I do not need one. She is a beautiful girl, with golden hair and
eyes the clearest green, like jewels. Any man would be lucky to
have her. Many young men here gaze at her with longing, but she has
eyes for none.

None, apparently, except her master.

I feel pity for her. It is no easy thing to
love the Beast. How much more difficult must it be to love him, and
know he will never love her back?

I remove myself from the hallway; let my feet
carry me wherever they will. My mind is in a daze, swirling with so
many questions I know I might never get answers to. I think about
every person here, and how long they must have waited for even a
chance to break the spell. How many of them hated their master for
being the cause of their misery? How many wished, even once, that
he would die?

How many have loved him always, despite his
flaws, choosing to see only the good in him, even when they had to
imagine it to be there?