Beauty & Cruelty

by Meredith Katz

  "I hadn't been going to," Talia muttered back. "Regret? Sadness? Is that really what's defining your life here, Cruelty? 'Rue'?"

  "It's just part of my name already. Better that than taking one that means nothing to me. This just requires silencing parts that are already there."

  "So if you silence the full extent of cruelty, you get regret?"

  "I don't have anything like that," Cruelty said. "I'm just playing with words."

  Chris came closer; Cruelty fell silent as he slid the drink over. "Drink's up! So how was camping?"

  She curled her fingers around it and stepped away from the counter with a smile. "Oh, you know. It's nice to get away from the real world for a bit, but I could do without all the pesky bugs."

  "Bad season for it. All right, don't lose track of time."

  "I never do," Cruelty said, and headed to a table to drink her coffee.

  They sat and watched people come and go as Cruelty sipped her beverage. As always, it was almost a macrocosm of reality in a place like this. A family with a crying baby, a woman who complained first about her coffee being too cold, and then about it being too hot, and didn't leave until she got her money back; a man who insisted on using the shop phone because government agencies were monitoring his own phone and he needed to pass news back 'home' about the aliens. This last intrigued Talia until Cruelty, murmuring quietly into the rim of her cup, pointed out everyone else's reaction to him: the stares, a mother pulling her son away, the laughter from a pair of teenage boys in a corner, and the barista serving him, Kelly, having a strained and uncomfortable smile. She knew Kelly well; customers like this freaked her out and she usually tried to get someone else to cover, but Chris was on the second till and Melanie was bussing right then. The distress was evident on her face, eyes suspiciously bright with tension as she kept refusing, over and over, to let him come behind the counter and use the phone. His voice kept getting louder as he insisted, in greater and greater distress, that he needed it, that it was urgent, that he had to get his message out.

  "It could be aliens, though," Talia pointed out, quietly, into Cruelty's ear. "One of us. And it could be urgent."

  "Yeah," Cruelty said. "But nobody cares. He's obviously troubled and in need of help—he's not someone to take seriously."

  Talia began to protest, but Cruelty wasn't paying attention; Chris had caught her eye and made a subtle badge-flash gesture. She sighed, nodded, and got up.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Getting mall security."

  "Why?"

  "To escort him out. None of the baristas want to engage with him if he's dangerous, but he's not going away on his own."

  "They could just let him use the phone."

  "Can't let him behind the counter in case he steals."

  "But," Talia said, distressed, "he says it's urgent."

  "Mike," Cruelty called. "We've got a situation in the shop. Can you check it out?"

  Mike, sighing and tired, rose from his seat in the center atrium. "Right, got it."

  Cruelty watched him go, not following immediately. Even over something harmless like this, there wasn't any point having her face attached to the arrival of security. It could always introduce problems. Talia was silent, which was itself suspicious.

  "What's wrong, Beauty?"

  "You knew he could be telling the truth. Maybe he's wrong about it being aliens, but he may have had a better understanding of the world than others. We're trying to encourage belief, and you didn't treat him any better than anyone else there. You just acted as if he was dangerous. For what? Believing in something outside himself?"

  "Sure did," Cruelty said. "Passing as human out here's my survival. If the rest of you fail, I can return to this so long as I don't make it clear I, like him, am part of anything that requires belief. Get used to it."

  Her actual shift passed with relatively little excitement, at least compared to what led up to it. She fell easily back into the repetitive patterns she'd had to develop as part of her job, greeting people with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Detaching from how they treated her, from how she didn't receive any awe, didn't receive the respect that she was due. She was barely even approached as a person, let alone as something greater. She was just the mechanism to take people's money and get them their drinks and sweets, and often enough, people wanted to calculate how exactly to break the system. Everyone preferred to get what they wanted without having to give any money at all. But it was easy work. It was just repetition, the same thing over and over again, and she was good at that, at least. Perfectly good at that.

  At first, Talia tried to talk to her as she worked, but when she didn't respond to it, Talia slowly grew quiet again, silently observing from Cruelty's hair. Her feet, stuck uncomfortably in shoes, began to hurt around four hours in, but that was something she was used to as well, only even noticed now after spending a while getting used to touching the ground and plants and cool stone wherever she walked.

  Four and a half hours in, she noticed him.

  Rick from Burger Village was waiting for her. He looked strained and miserable and angry, and she was annoyed to even see him in her coffee shop. For a number of reasons, really; the bugs would follow him in and poor Kelly would lose it when she pulled the mats up later. Beyond that, the idea that her old boss had followed her in here, had presumably contacted her other—now only—workplace to find out when she worked... It unnerved her. Maybe he wanted to apologize, beg forgiveness. But the idea seemed unlikely, knowing his personality. That meant she was dealing with a possible altercation, and navigating that in front of her coworkers and while Talia was watching her was distinctly unappealing. On the one hand, she could probably get Chris to cover for her if she had to leave, but she didn't want to seem cowardly in front of Talia; on the other hand, controlling her temper wasn't her greatest skill, and she didn't want to risk her job—or her and Talia's freedom, if she gave any signs of her actual power and if people actually believed it.

  She considered it, then decided a confrontation would happen if it happened, but the best option would be to not let it get out of hand. She could manage herself. Besides, she'd rather show Talia the full extent of what it was like to live in this world as a human than sneak away and have to field Talia's comments on that.

  He didn't seem to want to confront her before her shift ended, at least, just sat in—ironically—the same seat she'd been in before, probably because of the good view it gave of the counter and her. It was clear to her that he was waiting until she got off work. She gave him a sardonic smile at one point when their eyes met. His own jerked away from hers.

  But as soon as she got off shift, as soon as she went into the back and took off her apron and shook out her hair, careful not to dislodge the needle in it, and then came back out, he was there, rising from his seat.

  "Rue," he said, strained. "Do you have a minute?"

  "Who is he?" Talia asked, as if she could answer in front of anyone else.

  "Not really," Cruelty said. "Don't suppose you'll take that for an answer?"

  She walked out, but he followed behind her. She pretended not to mind, pretended not to be humiliated by how hard her heart was pounding. She felt trapped in this situation, not totally helpless but not able to act one way or another.

  "Listen," he said. "I don't know what you did to me, but I need you to stop it."

  "Do you?" Cruelty asked.

  "Rue, what did you do to him?"

  Cruelty bit back on the urge to snap at Talia not to call her that. Her stomach churned. "Listen," she said. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "I think you know. I don't know how you managed it, but you... did something. You did something to me. You're ruining my life." His voice was thickening with anger, pushing past the stress into genuine anger.

  "Funny," she said, continuing to walk. "I needed that second job to get by, and you fired me because you weren't willing to support me in the face of customers."

  He
grabbed her arm, spinning her slight body around. Centipedes, ants, spiders showered from his sleeve with the suddenness of the gesture. "I fired you," he said, furious, "because your attitude was terrible, had always been terrible, and you were swearing where the customers could hear you."

  His hand was too tight, painful. She could feel her skin bruising under his touch and shuddered with something not quite rage, a feeling she couldn't put a word to, at the realization that he was leaving marks on her skin. The bitter taste of bile burned at the back of her throat and for a moment, she couldn't bear that Talia was seeing her like this, having to pass for human. Of all the days…

  "Maybe my attitude wouldn't have been bad if you had shown me the respect I deserved," she said. "You never showed any of us any respect." She wanted it menacing, but the feeling seeped into her voice, drained the strength from it, and that was the most horrifying part of all of it. She knew he could hear it, and knew, from the way his grip tightened more, bone-grindingly hard, what kind of person he was. Not that she hadn't guessed before, from his power-tripping, from the way he treated his workers and especially the women, always threatening, casually touching. But it had never been relevant to her before. Here it was for sure, though: he'd grabbed her arm, she was in a situation she couldn't make a scene, and he knew it and reveled in it.

  She gathered herself with a shaky breath. Even if she couldn't do anything with it, she still held power inside herself, and she wouldn't let herself forget it. She had done worse things than this man had, and of the two, she was the more frightening—even if it was embarrassing to need to remind herself.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, voice cold and, this time, apparently unmoved, "but you're disgusting and you deserve whatever you get."

  Cruelty yanked her arm away from his grip. It hurt more, but it was worth it to seize that power back herself. As she turned to walk away, Talia was uncharacteristically quiet. She was just as glad for it.

  She didn't look back; didn't want to see whatever expression was on his face as he watched her leave.

  Chapter Eight

  Talia largely avoided asking Cruelty about the whole event, which was a surprising show of tact from her, but Cruelty thought, Talia had been given mercy and kindness as gifts. It felt a bit strange, in that same stomach-curling way, to imagine that Talia was in a position to show her any sort of mercy, and it was a very small step from that to imagining that Talia was showing her pity.

  Perhaps Talia was just tired, she thought to herself, feeling depressed and a little petty. It had been a long time since Talia had properly been out and about, after all.

  Whatever the cause was, Talia remained fairly quiet beyond a few unrelated questions about the behavior of this or that person on the sidewalk, or asking to read a newspaper. Cruelty bought her one out of a desire to see Talia's silence have a tangible reason behind it. They headed back to Cruelty's house and Cruelty changed back into her clothes and let Talia read the paper. Then, after she passed them back through the briars to their world and carried her back to the castle, Talia simply thanked Cruelty for the opportunity.

  She didn't rise to that sort of bait, of course, just sat next to Talia's body and held the needle out. "Last chance to beg me for freedom," she said with a biting smile down at the sleeping girl.

  "I won't beg you for what you won't give me," Talia said.

  "Ha." Cruelty pressed the needle into Talia's arm. There was a prick, and a drop of blood welling up, and her needle emptied its passenger back into its proper vessel. Talia's sleeping lips parted in an uncomfortable sigh, body reacting to the pain even without being allowed to wake, and Talia's image flickered into life beside them.

  Cruelty pulled the tip of the needle back out and licked it clean. Talia looked at her and seemed to fluster strangely, cheeks flushing.

  "Please," she said. "Leave me, Rue, if you would do me such kindness. I have a lot to think about."

  She bit back the urge to tell Talia off for using that name. At this point, she knew Talia was doing it to get a reaction from her, nothing more. She did the same to Talia all the time, and while she didn't fancy Talia starting to give back as good as she got, it was best not to show that it actually bothered her.

  "I'll do you such kindness," Cruelty said, gathered herself, and sent herself directly back to her own castle.

  *~*~*

  She intended to go back and grill Talia on what she'd gotten out of her adventure soon. At least, once they'd had enough space between them and could resettle their relationship back into the roles they were more comfortable with. But a day stretched into two days, and she couldn't shake the desire to avoid going back. It was too easy to imagine that pensive face. Talia had shown herself to be responsible, so she'd start out by pondering items of apparent import, but slowly that serious expression might then turn into some kind of sympathetic understanding. Cruelty couldn't bear the thought. Two days stretched into three, and she went back to work another shift. While in that world, she downloaded some books on her e-reader to take with her, read some fanfiction online, thumbed through a few old books, curled up in her chair with the smell of books in the air. Three stretched into four, and she came back again at the Cat's urging. Still, she didn't go to visit the castle. On impulse, she went to see Odette's pond instead; there, at least, was someone she could certainly pity.

  The swan was there, of course, saw Cruelty and spread her wings as she came close. She wasn't fortunate enough to have any kind of voice in this form. Her only freedom was the human form when the moon shone, and she had no moon now. Not that Cruelty would see her as a person regardless right now, during the daylight. As a swan, she had her woman's mind, her woman's heart, but nothing else. Still, although someone like Beauty was forced into physical captivity, Odette, at least, was not. She was a swan, and if a man she didn't desire came near her, she could grab him with her beak, hiss and yell in her trumpeting voice, beat him with her wings until his bones broke under her form. Von Rothbart was an unusual man, certainly, in choosing to curse a girl and turning her into as powerful a creature as a swan.

  Her spread wings were thus a threat. Cruelty held her hands out, smiling, and sat on the bank. "I mean you no harm, Lady Odette."

  Odette's wings didn't lower, and Cruelty laughed. That was a reasonable response, and maybe that was why she came out here. She'd needed some kind of stress relief and pleasure these days, after all.

  "My dear Lady Odette," Cruelty said. "Come now, stand down. Let's not act like savages."

  For a long moment, it looked like Odette would disobey, would continue to threaten, but slowly her neck relaxed, slowly her wings came back down to her sides.

  "Better," Cruelty said. "I've heard you're enmeshed in a scandalous love triangle of some kind."

  Odette turned her head to the side to eye Cruelty more clearly. She let out a honk, loud—but probably as soft as a swan could make it. Well, of course Odette was a bit confused, Cruelty thought. There was no need for someone like Cruelty to express any interest in a cursed young woman's love life. Even to her, it seemed a little absurd that she was bothering, but as the Cat had said, she was a meddler. She didn't like seeing situations in front of her and not influencing them in some way.

  "Another woman both like you and unlike you, fawning over a young man. A young man who's busy mooning over you—pardon the turn of phrase, my dear." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with a smile as Odette visibly bristled. "One can't help but wonder how you feel about the situation. Do you see a woman who has suffered from the same hands that you have, and a young man who endured the same curse that you did, and sympathize despite your own entrapment? Or do you see a woman whose body looks exactly like yours should, and envy the voice and beauty and arms and legs and presentation that you no longer have? Do you have this prince come to court you, and see that he has at least partially overcome the curse that you have not—still able to live much as any person can, much as you can't?"

&nbs
p; The swan's wings had lifted again by the end of that, beak parted as if she were about to start hissing. Cruelty raised her hands in surrender. "Perhaps that wasn't the most tactful way to put it," she admitted without any actual apology in her voice. "But of course I'm wondering your viewpoint in the matter. Perhaps, you want nothing to do with either of them, and they are acting out this drama entirely on their own?"

  Odette didn't lower her wings, and Cruelty let out a sigh. "I suppose it could easily be the last option there. It would all be resolved neatly if the Sixth Son simply gave up on you, and accepted the love of one who is so near to being you, hm?"

  The swan's body settled back into the water with such a splash that Cruelty actually drew her feet back a little from the edge of the lake. When she glanced back from the ripples to Odette, she saw the swan's head lowered, tilted away from her.

  "Ah. Not so indifferent to his advances, then. Or do you just want Odile not to gain one more thing that was aimed toward you?"

  That gained no more reaction. Odette was still as a statue on her lake. Cruelty frowned a little; if there was no reaction, there was no point. Odette didn't have words, and she wasn't here to just look at a sad animal.

  "Should I tell them about your clear longing? Let them know how this whole little scene has gone so they can make their decisions about each other based on that?" Cruelty mused aloud. "Certainly, someone around here being decisive would be better than all the sad posturing that's been going on so far. Yes, perhaps I shall tell them about this—"

  Odette's head snapped up, beak parting in a hiss, and Cruelty braced herself for an attack, but before Odette could do anything, the ground began to shake.

  The sound that rent the air was horrifying. Cruelty had, in the early days of their decay before she'd decided to leave, heard plenty of the sounds of their world crumbling. None of them compared to this. It was a sound like the fabric of the air and ground and trees, like the bindings of the pages of their world, were being twisted and torn. With absolutely no dignity, Cruelty flung herself to the ground to hold onto it, half out of the desire not to be knocked off her feet against the world, and half out of a strange, hysterical thought that perhaps she could hold it together. The shaking, a feeling of bucking and rolling, continued as she clung to the earth, as water from the lake was thrown up over her, as forest branches broke and rained down around them.