by Myles, Jill
And almost wished she hadn't.
1Belle was gorgeous. Ridiculously so. She was about the same height as Pippa, but where Pippa was slender, Belle was curvy. Not in an overfed, too-many-pastries sort of way, but more like the heavens-have-blessed-you-with-a-killer-body sort of curves. The simple green dress she wore only emphasized her incredible figure. If that weren't enough, Belle had the sweetest, most beautiful heart-shaped face that Pippa had ever seen. She had big, sparkling eyes of bright blue, high cheekbones, a little chin just pointy enough to be adorable, and dimples. Cascading down her back from a perfect widow's peak were the most gorgeous thick blonde curls that Pippa had ever seen.
“Um, sister? You’re my sister?” This gorgeous creature was supposed to be her sister? What the hell? Sisters were supposed to look alike, and this lovely girl looked nothing like Pippa. Did she get a makeover in this switch? Pippa stole a peek down at her own flat bosom, but it seemed as unspectacular as ever.
Apparently this was a family where one sister was the 'have' and the other was the 'have not'.
“Stepsister,” the lettuce whispered.
Oh right. Wicked stepsister. Gotcha.
"I'm so glad you're home!" Belle giggled excitedly and then bounced in front of Pippa.
"How's Aunt Dulcie?"
She honestly had no idea. But she could play this game, too. Pippa smiled brightly. "Great.
Just great. She sends her love."
Now Belle looked confused. "She does? I thought she hated me."
Oops. She patted Belle on the shoulder. "I'm just teasing you."
"Oh!" Belle laughed. "You’re silly. And I see you've been tending her gardens again, Philippa."
Philippa? Gag. Really? Was that what the other 'Pippa' went by in this reality? Ugh. "You know what, Belle? The walk home had me thinking, and I think I'm going to go by the name Pippa. Can we try that for a while?"
Belle's eyes widened with excitement. "Oh! New names sound marvelous! Can I be Bella?
No, wait! Bell-y." She frowned, squinching up her face, and thought hard. "Maybe Bellette?"
Pippa stared. Was this girl serious?
1Belle continued to consider this, looking thoughtful, her mouth moving as if tasting all the different names. After a moment, she shrugged. "Maybe I should stick with Bell-y. It has a nice ring to it."
Dear lord, Pippa was pretty sure she was serious. She studied her sister again and revised the whole 'have' and 'have not' theory. Maybe one sister didn't 'have' everything after all. "How about Isabelle?"
Belle's eyes went huge. "Oh yes. That is beautiful! Better than beautiful! Beautiful-ly!
Beautiful-loo! Beautif—"
"I got it," Pippa interrupted, softening her rudeness with a smile. "So you can be Isabelle and I'll be Pippa."
Belle nodded quite seriously and clapped her hands as if excited at this new game. "I think that's for the best. But you can just call me Belle."
There was a loud snort that sounded like it came from the basket of vegetables. Somehow, Pippa suspected that Muffin had known exactly what Pippa was getting into. Okay, Belle was kind of…slow. Enthusiastic like a puppy, but not the sharpest tack in the shed. Enthusiastic, dumb, and pretty was a lot easier to work with than bitchy, plain, and balky…which, damn, kind of summed her up.
Wasn't this fun.
She had an urge to toss Muffin's head of lettuce into the nearest stewpot. Instead, she picked it up and tucked it into her arm so Belle couldn't see the fairy godmother's face. It might have been turned into her armpit. Subtle revenge. "So, uh, what's new, Belle?"
Belle gave her a charmingly dimpled smile and moved to the basket, digging through what Pippa had brought home. "Well, you're back, of course, Pippy, and—"
"Pippa."
"Right!"
Right. Sigh. "You were saying?"
"And one of the village boys came by to tell me that they had heard that a rider fitting father's description had been spotted in the woods not too far away." She clutched a pair of potatoes to her ample breasts in excitement. "Do you think Father is truly coming home?"
1"That's how this thing all begins, right?" Pippa said dryly, thinking of the fairy tale. Dear old Dad would come home and offer up one of his daughters to the beast. And if she remembered right, the ugly, nasty sisters refused to go so sweet, beautiful Belle went to spare their father.
Damn. She just realized this made her the ugly stepsister in addition to the wicked one. That sucked.
Belle tilted her head in the most charming fashion, ringlets of gold spilling over her shoulder.
"What thing begins?"
Pippa shrugged. "This whole—ow!" She jerked the head of lettuce away from her armpit. It had just bitten her. "Will you excuse me for a second, Belle? I need to go teach this lettuce some manners."
"O-okay." Belle gave her a curious look and then held up the potatoes. "I'll work on dinner.
Do you want me to teach the leeks some manners?"
"Sounds good." She headed for the back room in the small house, ignoring Belle's curious look in her direction. Once there, she shut the door behind her and rubbed her armpit, tossing Muffin's head of lettuce down on the bed. Ow. Sure enough, she had a sore spot and a wet mark on her sleeve from where Muffin had bit her. "What the hell, Muffin?"
"Ixnay on the airy-tale-fay," the head of lettuce hissed at her. "She can't know this is all pre-ordained. You want her to balk even more? Hint that she doesn't have a choice in the matter.
Belle looks to be a cute little fluff-head but she's stubborn as heck. Trust me. I've had to deal with thirteen different versions of her in thirteen different realities, and she can be a big pain in the ass. Just go with the flow and try not to muck things up, okay? You're not here to put a wrench in the works—you're here to bring two lovebirds together. Got it?"
Pippa flopped down on the bed and grabbed the lettuce, holding it up to look at Muffin's face.
"So what exactly am I supposed to do?"
"Be a big sister. Coach her. Talk him up and make him sound like a great catch. Try to get her interested in him. You know, big sister stuff. I'll check in on you as often as I can."
Pippa gasped. "You're leaving?"
"Um," came a small voice from the doorway, and Pippa looked over to see Belle's confused expression. The blonde entered the room, trying not to stare hard at Pippa, who appeared to be having a conversation with a head of lettuce that she was holding aloft. "Is everything okay?"
"We're fine."
1"We?"
"Me," Pippa blurted. "I'm fine. I just…I thought I saw a bug on this and took it in here to get a better look." She turned it, holding it aloft, and spun it around in her hands. The fairy godmother's face was completely gone from the head of lettuce. Okay, that was weird. She supposed the conversation was over now. Damn. And the woman hadn't really given her much to go on. "It looks fine now."
Belle smiled brightly and took the lettuce from Pippa, leaning over to give her a friendly, one-armed hug. "You're tired, sister. You've taken too much upon yourself while father's been gone. Why don't you take a nap and I'll work on getting dinner ready?"
Pippa stood and brushed off her hands. "No, it's okay. I can help."
Belle nodded and headed out with the head of lettuce, holding it at arm’s length. Pippa went to follow her and noticed the small, wavy mirror in the corner of the room for the first time. She stepped forward and examined herself.
Nothing was different. Not really. Her face was still a plain oval, her eyes a muddy greenish-brown. Her hair was that plain mousy color between blonde and brown and hung limp and straight. Her bust was not impressive, and the dress she wore was plain, brown, and serviceable.
One ugly stepsister, coming up. Pippa touched her cheek and frowned. She wasn't considered ugly by most people. Maybe not a raving beauty, but she wasn't ugly. Plain, yes. Unremarkable?
Definitely. She glanced through the doorway, where Belle was humming to herself and chopping vegetables. Her t
hick ringlets had been pulled back over one shoulder and looked like a skein of gold in the sunlight creeping in through the shutters.
Okay, maybe if she stood next to Belle for long periods of time, she'd look like an ugly sister.
It was kind of insulting, really. And Pippa couldn't help but watch with a bit of satisfaction when Belle took a carving knife and chopped the head of lettuce in half.
~~***~~
That evening, she and Belle were sitting in front of the fire, bellies full of vegetable soup.
Pippa yawned, frowning at the quiet. It was too quiet. She was used to city sounds – distant trains, traffic, neighbors. There was nothing, and it freaked her out.
1Across from her, Belle picked at the stitches on the sleeve of a dress. She'd brought out a basket and laid it at Pippa's feet earlier, beaming and proclaiming that she'd saved the spinning for her sister, since she knew that was Pippa's favorite.
Except, Pippa wasn't entirely sure what to do with a spindle. She fiddled with it and then grabbed a handful of wool, grimacing at the feel of it. It still smelled like sheep. Gross. She dropped it again and wiped her hand on her skirt. The sound of horses’ hooves clattered in the distance, breaking the almost-unnerving stillness of the woods.
Belle jumped up from her stool, dropping her sewing on the ground. "Father!"
"Oh?" Pippa tossed the spindle into the wool basket and followed Belle to the door. "How do you know it's him?"
She gave Pippa a funny look. "Who else would be riding a horse to Papa's house this late at night?"
Ask a silly question, she said to herself, but nodded as if this were all totally normal. "Right. I forgot."
After a few minutes of waiting at the door, a man entered, and Pippa held her breath, waiting to see his face. Would this guy look like her father from her world? Considering he’d died ten years ago, she’d love to see him again.
But the man was tall and skinny, and he had a bald head and a long ponytail. Definitely not her father. He hugged Belle close, and then extended an arm to Pippa. She moved into his embrace, since it would have been weird otherwise, and noticed he smelled like…alcohol.
Belle's dad was a drunk? Ugh. Pippa pushed away, keeping a fake smile on her face as she kept up the charade. "It's good to see you again, Father."
"We're so glad you're home!" Belle chirped happily. "Did you bring me presents?"
He pulled a small package out of his pocket and handed it to Belle, who giggled happily and began to unwrap it. "A necklace! It's so lovely!" She twirled, admiring her prize.
Pippa waited, wondering if a present was coming her way, but Belle's father only moved toward the fire and sniffed the vegetable soup. "Dinner?"
Gee. Nothing for the ugly stepdaughter? Figures.
Belle bustled past to get a wooden bowl, the necklace now around her lovely neck. "Tell us about all your adventures, Father!"
1He shook his head and sat heavily on Belle's small stool near the fire. Tears glimmered in his eyes. "I'm afraid I have something awful to tell you."
Here we go, Pippa thought. Let's get this party started.
Belle's eyes widened until they looked like marbles in her face. "What's wrong?"
"My girls…have you heard the story of the beast that lives in a cursed castle in the woods?"
"Those are stories," Pippa said in a crisp voice, getting into the spirit of things. "Everyone knows that's not real." And the Oscar goes to…
"Oh, Papa. Have you been drinking again?" Belle gave him a patient, understanding look.
Pippa thought it was pretty obvious that he'd been drinking. All one had to do was smell him.
But she said nothing.
"The beast is real," the older man said with a shudder, and he launched into his tale. Pippa listened, mentally comparing notes with the fairy tale she was familiar with. He told them that he'd been caught in a terrible storm and forced to seek shelter in an old, tumbling castle. He'd gone there and had eaten a dinner prepared for him by 'spooky' servants and had looked for gifts for his daughters, he said, with a sad look in Belle's direction. Pippa suspected it was more like he'd been caught raiding the liquor cabinet.
And that's when the beast had exacted a terrible promise. He must send one of his daughters to be the bride of the beast.
Belle clutched at her necklace, gasping theatrically. "Oh no. One of us must marry this cruel monster?"
"Gee, that's just terrible," Pippa said, wincing at how unsympathetic her voice sounded. She was glad the lettuce was in the cooking pot, or else it probably would have bitten her again. She cleared her throat and tried for a more convincing tone. "Whatever shall we do?"
"One of you must marry him," the old drunk said, turning to give Pippa a meaningful stare.
"He did not specify which daughter. One of you must volunteer."
And again, he gave Pippa a direct look.
Oh, please. First no presents, and now she was supposed to martyr herself for this wino?
Pippa snorted and examined her fingernails, avoiding his gaze.
"I guess I can go," Belle said, after a long, awkward moment.
"No, Belle! You mustn't! You're so beautiful." Her father sounded truly anguished.
"But I'm so pretty, Father. I'm sure he'd want me."
1 Unless he wanted a meaningful conversation, Pippa thought, then was ashamed when Belle gave her an anguished look.
"I'll do it to keep my sister safe." Belle blinked sad, beautiful eyes at him. "You know I'll do anything for family."
The sentiment made Pippa feel bad. Belle was kind of a ditz, but she was nice. And she loved her sister to pieces. The dad? The dad she could do without.
"Oh, Belle. No." The old man shook his head. "The beast said it didn't matter which daughter," he protested. "I'm sure that—"
"She said she'd go," Pippa cut in, feeling a bit insulted. Jeez! She wasn't as busty as Belle but she wasn't exactly chopped liver, was she?
Belle caressed her father's lean, sunken cheek. "It's for the best, Father. I will go and marry this beast."
"But the woods! You can't go alone! You get lost going to town, Belle. How will you ever find your way to the beast's lair?"
This was Pippa's cue. "I'll go with you, Belle. So you don't have to go alone."
Belle turned and gave Pippa an incredibly grateful look, her brilliant eyes shining. "You will, sister?"
"I will."
The old man gave her a hateful look. "It seems I will lose both of my daughters to this beast."
"I'm sure you'll drink away your sorrows," Pippa said in her sweetest voice. She looked over at Belle. "Should we pack so we can go in the morning?"
The poor girl burst into tears. "If we must."
Pippa gave her an awkward pat on the shoulders. For a moment, she felt bad for poor Belle.
Belle was truly, genuinely upset at having to leave home and marry a beast. Of course, the beast was actually an enchanted prince, and she had to marry him or else Pippa would be doomed to haunt a parking garage in floral granny panties.
All her sympathy dried up at that moment. "I'll go pack a bag!"
1
CHAPTER TWO
"I see something up ahead," Belle said, her voice quavering. "Do you suppose it's the beast's castle?"
Pippa pulled the hood back on her cloak and wiped the drizzling rain off of her face. She squinted into the storm, wondering how on earth Belle saw anything in this mess. All around her were wet trees and thick forest. And mud. She couldn't forget the mud, since it was coating her hems up to her knees.
So far? Pippa wasn't a big fan of forests.
The horse danced below them and Pippa clung to Belle, wincing at her sore bottom. Okay, she wasn't a fan of horses, either. Since she didn't know how to ride (and Belle seemed to think Pippa'd merely forgotten and teased her about it) she was clinging to her sister on the back of a very tall, very bitey horse. And her ass was killing her.
But she scanned the trees ahead, because hope spran
g eternal. "I don't see anything, Belle."
"Over there." Her sister pointed off into the distance and Pippa dutifully looked.
There was something up ahead, she realized as the horse started down the muddy path once more. It looked like a vine-covered bridge of some kind. As they approached, Pippa's stomach churned a little. It looked really, really old and rickety. Crumbling, waist high stone walls lined the cobbled bridge, but there were holes in the path and weeds poking out through the rocks.
Below, a storm-swollen river rushed and churned.
She clung a little harder to Belle's narrow waist and squeezed her eyes shut. "Um, are we sure this is the safest path to travel?"
"It's the only path, sister," Belle pointed out.
She hated that Belle was right. Pippa kept her eyes closed and pulled her hood tight over her head again. "Tell me when we're across."
Every second while the horse's hooves clattered on the cobblestones seemed to last a lifetime.
Occasionally, the entire thing felt like it was weaving beneath them, and Pippa's stomach lurched in time. Every instinct screamed to get off the horse and run for the hills, but she was pretty sure that the fairy tale didn't end with Belle and her reasonably attractive stepsister drowning in a river. So she stayed put.
1"We're across," Belle called out in a singsong. "You can look now."
Pippa squeezed an eye open and pulled her hood back again. Sure enough, they'd made it across and the horse continued plodding down the path. The thick woods fell away to reveal a wide, rusty gate, barely hanging on its hinges. It was closed.
Past the gate, down an equally crumbling path, loomed a forbidding, crumbling castle. The cracked, twisted path led off into the fog. Crenellated walls rose out of the mist like a behemoth, perched atop a rather foreboding cliff. Pippa was pretty sure that she saw a turret of some kind.
Super. It looked ultra-creepy, and she felt a shiver travel up her arms, even though she knew the actual story behind the curse.