He didn’t move beneath me.
My ears were ringing from the gunshot, but I couldn’t make another mistake, not like I had before. I checked Thomas’ neck for a pulse. Nothing...
Bastian.
I ripped Thomas’ keys off his belt with shaking hands, and ran over to Bastian. His breathing was labored and I refused to look at the bloom of red spreading across the lower half of his ribcage. With shaking hands, I managed to get the key into the lock and release him from the cuffs. He slumped down, but I held him up and positioned him so that I could lay him carefully on the ground.
His eyes were closed, his skin frozen underneath the blood-soaked fur. I choked back a sob. “No, no, no,” I pleaded. This is all my fault. I touched his cheek, and his eyes fluttered open, finding mine. “Stay with me, Bastian.”
“Belle,” he choked out. His chest was heaving, as if it pained him to take each breath.
“I’m here,” I whispered, loosely grasping at the fur on his chest. “I’m right here.”
“You’re here,” he repeated my words, as if he didn’t believe it even when it was coming from his own mouth.
Any words I might’ve said got caught in my throat. Blood pooled from beneath his body where he’d been shot, and my stomach roiled at what it would mean if he lost any more of it.
“I didn’t think I’d get to—to see you again before…”
“Stop that,” I begged him, stroking his mane. “Can’t you heal yourself?”
He cracked a weak smile. “The magic doesn’t work like that, Belle. At least, not anymore.” Then the smile slipped from his face and turned into a pained grimace.
I moved as close to him as I possibly could. “This is all my fault,” I said. “If I hadn’t left—if I’d just stayed with you—this never would’ve happened.”
“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” he told me. He brought his paw to my face; it was so cold. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t blame yourself, not for a single moment.”
I shook my head, but seeing the desperation in his eyes, I told him softly, “I promise.” I held his hand to my face, my eyes pleading with him not to let go.
“I love you,” he managed, his voice barely a whisper. “Even in death, I will always love you.” Then his eyes rolled back and his head lolled to the side.
“No,” I whispered, letting his lifeless hand fall to his side. “No, no, Bastian. Please. Please, come back.” I grabbed his face in my hands. “Come back to me.” My eyes searched his face, but it was unmoving.
And then I told him, from the deepest part of my soul: “I love you.”
He didn’t stir.
I couldn’t breathe—my lungs felt trapped in my body. I buried my face in his chest, tears burning, cutting down my cheeks, and something in me broke. My fault, all my fault that he’s dead. I’d been too late and now he was gone, just as I’d feared. If I’d just stowed my fear earlier, or come up with a quicker plan, or watched my back with Thomas, he might still be alive.
But Bastian was gone and he was never coming back. And it was my doing. My heart tore itself apart at the thought, and a sob ripped from my chest.
The cottage had grown horribly silent—my cries cut through it like a banshee in the night.
Then, a strange light pierced my eyelids, and I opened them to see that the same purple smoke had begun to pour out from the bullet wound in Bastian’s chest.
I stood as I wiped at the tears on my face. Is this what happens after someone with Bastian’s curse dies? I wondered. Not wanting to interfere, I backed away, hoping that he was going somewhere good—somewhere he could be at peace. But he still didn’t move, and soon his body was so engulfed by the plumes of odorless smoke that I couldn’t see him anymore. And then, the smoke collapsed in on itself, as if it had been sucked back into Bastian’s body.
But it wasn’t the Beast that laid there now.
It was a man—no fur, no scars except for a map of silver ones. His sweater was hanging on by a few threads, and he was wearing what looked like Bastian’s pants, but they were too big on him and rode low on his hips. His eyes were still closed as he lay there, and I wondered who he was and how he’d gotten here. But then he stirred, and I had a sudden irrational hope that maybe it was Bastian—that he’d come back to me.
It couldn’t be, though. I’d seen the life leave his eyes. And he’d never looked this human before. This couldn’t be Bastian.
The man, who had dirty-blonde hair that went to the nape of his neck, opened his eyes and sat up slowly, holding his hands in front of him and staring at them as if he’d never seen them before. His jaw was angular, his nose sloping and flawless. He had long lean muscles that contracted as he bent his knees and stood effortlessly, looking down at himself as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, his chest and stomach heaving. He reminded me a little of the Bastian I’d seen in the rose-tea visions I’d had in the castle, and I was sure that my mind was playing tricks on me.
Every bone in my body ached for it to be Bastian…but if it wasn’t, I didn’t have the strength to deal with him.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
The man’s gaze snapped up to meet mine. The way he’d turned to look at himself and the angle of his body made it difficult to see his face at first, but I could tell that he was looking at me.
“Belle?” he asked, and I started at the sound of my name on his lips. It was like the shadow of a voice I’d once known.
“Who are you?” I asked again, more forcefully this time, my heart beating loudly in my chest.
The man approached me slowly. “It’s me,” he said. “Belle. It’s me.”
He couldn’t mean—I didn’t dare hope…
The man took another step towards me and his face came into the light, only inches from me now. The silver scars on his jawline stood out against his skin, but otherwise it was unblemished. His dark blond hair was slicked back, and I reached out and took a strand of it between my fingers. It was soft and separated easily.
Then I looked into his eyes and…they were unmistakably his.
“Bastian?” I managed.
He smiled as he reached for me, and I caught a glimpse of his perfect teeth before he took me into his arms. Fresh tears cut down my cheeks as I gripped him tight. Not having the cushion of the fur, his body seemed harder—more real, but less real at the same time.
Pulling back, he placed a very human hand on my waist, reaching up with his other hand and touching my cheek, pushing back my wet, knotted hair. I wanted to close my eyes at the sensation, but if I did, this might all be a dream—a dream that I never wanted to wake up from. My gaze strayed to what were now his full lips and back to his eyes.
He was so beautiful it hurt.
A small part of me wondered if this was some sort of trick. If it was, it was cruel and would shatter my heart. But a much bigger part told me this was real. That Bastian was alive—was human again.
He pulled me closer and placed his forehead against mine. I sucked in a breath at his closeness, the warmth of his body, and finally closed my eyes, feeling safe for the first time in a long time. I tilted my head back so that our noses brushed and I heard his own breath hitch. My mind was still reeling when he dipped his head down and our lips met.
His were soft and warm, melding effortlessly to mine and stealing my breath. Heat spread through my body as I pressed myself to him and his grip tightened around me. His hands tangled themselves gently in my hair and I gripped the hard muscle of his back, pressing my fingers into his skin.
My hands found their way to his chest, where I brushed his hot skin, traveling up past his neck and into his hair. I grasped the wet tendrils and brought him closer to me. A low sound escaped his throat and his hands skimmed down to my waist, anchoring me to him, deepening the kiss. I was so unbearably lightheaded—I’d never felt anything like this before.
Like I was floating and the only thing anchoring me to the earth was him.
He broke away
first, breathing hard against my lips. My eyes opened and found his. They were so bright I could’ve sworn they truly were made of sapphire.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” I said, but he only smiled as he stroked the hair near my temple languidly.
“I love you,” I whispered to him, in case he hadn’t heard me the first time, when I thought he’d been dead.
His hand stopped and he smiled. “I know,” he said. His voice was still deep, but not nearly what it had been when he was the Beast. I almost missed it. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. You brought me back to life; you broke my curse.” He kissed me once, his lips lingering against mine. “I love you, Belle.”
I grinned now. “I know.”
He laughed for a moment, and then his eyes went back to my lips. We were so close, I could barely breathe…
Then I remembered my sisters.
I wrenched away from him without meaning to, and something twisted in my gut at the hurt that flashed across his face.
“My sisters,” I explained, and I knew he understood when his face grew concerned. “We have to hurry.”
I looked at him again for a moment, still not quite believing my own eyes, when I realized that he was practically half-naked and in desperate need of clothes. Heat shot up my neck to my cheeks when I saw that he was watching my gaze linger on him.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Let me get you some of my father’s clothes,” and bolted off towards my room.
When father had left us and it seemed like he wasn’t coming back, I’d packed all of his things away in a trunk, letting Em use his room if she wanted. I knew it was hard for her to share a room with Lila, but when Lila had her nightmares, it was Emily who could hear her whimpering across the hall and would sleep in the bed with her until she fell back asleep.
I kneeled in front of his trunk now, searching through to the bottom for the clothes that had fit him when mother was still alive and he’d been eating more and drinking less. I held up a thick green tunic and dark brown pants, shrugging—I hoped they’d fit him well enough. I also grabbed the pair of muddy boots that sat beside the trunk, figuring it couldn’t hurt for him to try them on at least.
When I got back to the living room, Bastian was in the same spot I’d left him in, flexing his fingers and toes, and twisting his limbs. I smiled and almost felt like laughing, though my stomach dropped again at seeing him. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to him like this—so human, so…
He looked up and saw me, wonder still lingering in his gaze. Heat rushed up my neck and I held the clothes and boots out to him. Silently, he grabbed them from my outstretched hands, but didn’t make a move to put them on. I realized then that I probably shouldn’t watch him while he changed. I turned away, staring intently at the silver kettle sitting silently on the stove, hearing a faint rustling behind me.
“Alright,” he said finally.
I turned back around and bit my lip to keep from smiling: the pants fit him surprisingly well, but the tunic was a bit tight across his chest.
He looked down at himself. “I feel ridiculous.”
I took the couple of steps I needed to stand in front of him, where I could feel the comfort of the heat coming from him. “You look fine,” I told him, standing on my toes a bit to fix his collar so that it didn’t stand up. I felt him watching me, and heat rose to my cheeks again as I avoided his gaze. I wondered if he’d stared at me like this when he’d been hidden beneath his hood at the castle.
I looked down at his bare feet. “Do the boots not fit?” I asked, meeting his eyes again.
He didn’t answer at first, his gaze moving over my face as if he wanted to memorize it.
I let out a trembling breath. “I’ll take that as a no.”
He shook his head, as if to dispel his wandering thoughts, and replied, “Not even close, but don’t worry. I’m used to being barefoot.”
“Maybe as the Beast,” I reasoned, “but not as a human.”
He grinned. “I think I can manage.”
I rolled my eyes. “Men.”
I caught the beginnings of a grin before he swept me into his arms and pressed his lips to mine. It was only for a moment, but it was soft and beautiful and I wanted to pull him back to me the moment it ended.
Most of our bodies still touching, I let out a shaky breath.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
Bastian’s gaze drifted to my lips, grinning. “Because I could.”
Oh.
“Come on,” I said unsteadily, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go find my sisters.”
Chapter 28
His Gentleness and Kindness
BASTIAN
B elle looked like she was ready to murder someone. Hair wild from the storm, she took my hand, and a current traveled between us.
I looked at her—really looked at her—since coming back from the dead and turning human again. Her jaw squared, I realized how strong she was, and I imagined there were few things that would affect her like this. But, no matter what, I wouldn’t leave her side until her sisters were safe.
Her hand in mine, I wrenched open her front door, sudden rage at the men that had taken her sisters growing inside me. And for that evil lawman, Thomas, for suggesting the idea in the first place. Not to mention he’d tried to kill me. And had nearly succeeded.
Glancing up at the open sky, I saw that the storm had let up, though the clouds still hung ominously above us. Stumbling a little on the unevenness of the wet ground, I righted myself quickly, Belle’s hand anchoring me. I wasn’t sure how far to push this body yet since it felt so new to me, but that wasn’t important. I would keep running and fighting until I couldn’t anymore.
I let her lead in the charged silence. These streets were so foreign to me, and we weren’t even into the main part of town yet. The cobblestone that had replaced the mud and dirt outside her home was uneven beneath my bare feet, but focusing on the way Belle’s hand felt in mine, her skin against my human skin, distracted me well enough.
It took longer than I thought, hurrying past a few other cottages and farms of varying sizes, but the town was finally within our sights. It looked strange to me, and so different from the last time I’d seen it as a boy, when I’d visited with my father. We passed little French houses crammed between pristine store fronts, and I couldn’t believe how much the Regime had changed Briar in my absence.
As we got closer, what I thought might’ve been the sounds of the city were growing louder and angrier, and we started to run.
“Oh no,” was all I heard Belle say as she picked up her pace.
The noises became louder; people yelling, screaming obscenities against the Regime, their words tumbling over each other in rage.
Turning a corner, Belle stopped in her tracks, dropping my hand. We’d come to a square, where the crowd seemed to be turned towards a shop that’s sign read ‘Alinder’s Bookshop’, another clean-cut example of the Regime’s handiwork. Outside that bookshop, an older man with glasses and white, unkempt hair had been pushed to his knees by a Regime soldier, a rifle pointed at his head.
“No!” Belle yelled, pushing her way through the crowd with such force that I knew this man was important to her. I followed quickly after until we came to where the crowd had parted around him. The ruckus we caused had made the townspeople fall silent, and then murmur to each other softly.
“Who’s that with Belle?” one asked.
“Maybe he’s a mercenary,” another said hopefully.
“Or a Regime spy,” a third mentioned venomously.
I ignored them all—they’d know who I was soon enough.
“Stop,” Belle told the first soldier, but he didn’t even look at her. The soldier next to him, on the other hand, took out his rifle and pointed it at Belle.
“Please don’t hurt this man,” she continued, undeterred, “he’s done nothing wrong.”
“You know better than to interrupt Regime business, Belle,” the first one told her, and I realiz
ed that it was the soldier that Belle had known when I’d been fighting with Thomas. When I’d still been the Beast.
Though I could feel my anger rising, I knew there were more important things I needed to be focused on. From what I could see out of the corner of my eye, there were at least half a dozen Regime soldiers stationed around the bookshop, weapons pointed at unarmed citizens. But I didn’t see Belle’s sisters. I glanced around stealthily, searching for what I remembered of their faces from when I’d glimpsed them in the forest, and then again in the magic mirror…
There!
Circled by three more soldiers, the two girls huddled against each other, barely able to stay standing with how hard their knees were knocking together. My blood boiled, but I’d have to wait until the right opportunity.
“But why hurt Mr. Alinder?” Belle demanded, bringing my attention back to her as she gestured to the old man. “What has he done to warrant this kind of treatment from the Regime?”
The soldier—Sean, I remembered—sneered at her, and I saw that he’d gotten closer. My skin prickled with restless energy.
“I knew where you’d gotten that book the first time I caught you reading, Belle. Alinder is the only one in town with any knowledge of the old texts. So, naturally, when I became a Regime soldier, I had to tell them what I knew. Keeping things like that a secret from the Regime is against the law, especially for a soldier; there was no other choice.” He smiled proudly.
Belle shook her head, and pleaded, “But Mr. Alinder is your friend.”
I looked over at the old man, and saw that his fearful eyes now held tears in them.
“Was my friend,” Sean corrected her. “Any enemy of the Regime is no friend of mine.”
“He’s not an enemy of the Regime,” Belle exclaimed. “He’s just trying to live his life. He hasn’t hurt anyone—can’t you just let him go?”
Sean shook his head. “Look at all the people here, Belle, come out to see the spectacle of our government exacting justice,” he announced, speaking loud enough now for the entire square to hear him. “The Regime does not forgive a transgression, and the people of Briar need to learn that we won’t yield to acts of treason, no matter how small.”
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