Beastly Beauty: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Girl Among Wolves Book 2)

by Lena Mae Hill

  “You need to stop now,” he says, stepping towards me.

  As if coming to, I raise my head. They’ve all come to see me, just like I wanted. The whole pack has seen me triumph over my mother. They know I’ve won, that I’m stronger than she is. Standing around the yard, the wolves clump together, every one of them staring at me in shock. White faces gape as Harmon limps forward until he reaches us.

  “That’s enough for today,” he says quietly, his human hand reaching for me. He buries his fingers in the fur on the back of my neck, digging in until he’s gripping me firmly. I could swat him away, rip his hand off. I could send him sailing into the valley below.

  “Stella,” Harmon says, an edge of warning in his voice. He gives a firm tug at my hair. “You’re strong, but you’re not stronger than a whole pack of wolves. We will defend one of our own.”

  Those words slice something inside me, cut me away from what I’m doing. I will never have their sympathy, will never be better than my mother in their eyes, no matter what she’s done or how intimidating I am in my animal form. They are wolves, and they are loyal to each other first, no matter what. Even Harmon.

  I step back, letting him pull me away.

  He holds out a hand to my mother. It’s a wolf paw, half covered in black hairs and half bare, a deformed thing. I can see the others grimace, swallow, and avert their eyes. My mother reaches for his hand, but when she sees it, she hesitates, her hand hovering halfway to his. “Are you injured, Talia?” Harmon asks, his voice as brittle as the ice skimming a puddle in winter.

  Before she can answer, Fernando’s father pushes through the crowd and rushes to her side, taking her outstretched hand and helping her sit. Behind her, near the house, my sisters stand clutching each other, their faces ashen and stunned. I did that. I caused that. But the power to put that expression on their faces brings me no satisfaction.

  “Let’s go,” Harmon mutters. He snatches up my clothes from the lawn as we go. When we pass the first group of people, he holds his head high, his jaw tense. They step back, the children hiding behind their parents, staring out from behind their legs while the parents shift and look away. Harmon won’t hide his gruesome face. But I will. I lower my head in shame, walking beside him like a scolded dog. He came out here, paraded his humiliation, to stop me. Now I can’t tell if they’re staring at me or at him. But I know what this is costing Harmon.

  When we reach the road, he releases his grip on my fur and stalks ahead. His loping, crooked gait is painful to watch, and shame washes through me. I don’t know where else to go, though, so I follow Harmon. At his house, he drops my clothes on the porch before disappearing around the side of the house. I hear the door to the side stairs open and close, but I don’t follow. For a few minutes, I stand on the porch, then shift back. It takes longer than it took to become a tiger, but the transition is less painful. Like Harmon said, it’s getting easier already.

  When I’m human, I grab my clothes and pull them on as quickly as I can, glancing around as I dress. Now that I’m just me, a small human girl in cropped jeans and a cap-sleeve tee, I feel stupid and…strange. Like that was a dream that happened to someone else. How can someone as meek as me be a Siberian tiger? How can I have almost killed my own mother?

  Still reeling, I stand on the top step, more hesitant than ever. But finally, I go downstairs, because I have nowhere else to go. Harmon is in the sitting room, staring at a haphazard pile of cards strewn across the table.

  I sit opposite him and sweep them into a neat stack. “I’m sorry.”

  “I think you should go home,” he says.

  I drop the cards, and they scatter across the worn wooden surface again. “You’re kicking me out? After you kept me here against my will for months?”

  “I’m not kicking you out,” he says. “If you want to stay, you’re welcome as long as you want. As long as you’re not hurting anyone.”

  “I didn’t hurt her.”

  “I know.” He begins to gather the cards slowly, with his human hand. “That’s why you can stay. This is my pack, Stella. I have to take care of it. This is what I was born to do. They are my responsibility. There’s not another life out there, waiting for me somewhere else. This is it.”

  “What if you can’t transition?”

  “Then leading the pack won’t be my responsibility any longer.” His voice is so flat, I know it must be killing him just to say those words.

  “And?”

  “And I’m not going to make them look at me the way they did today. That’s not good for morale. Your mother, she’s not an Alpha, but she’s good at organizing them, and she’s smart. She grew up in an Alpha’s house, so she knows our ways better than anyone else.”

  “Except you.”

  “I don’t have a choice the way you do,” he says. “This is pack life. Talia will keep things running smoothly until they find someone else to lead. It’s better than not having anyone in charge. That’s happened before, for a few years. It’s not good for the pack. They need someone to take charge.”

  “Harmon.”

  He continues, slowly stacking the cards, speaking as if to himself. “Right now, if they need me for something, or to advise, she comes and asks. It can work this way for a while. She’s been doing it for the past year, with my father injured, anyway. It’s not so different.”

  “But what about what you want?”

  “I’ll stay and help train a new Alpha. Maybe it will only be four or five years. Fernando’s father grew up with mine. He’s older, but he can still lead. Together, we could train Fernando to take over.”

  “What then? What happens to you when they find a new Alpha?”

  He frowns at the cards, his fingers pausing on one. “Whatever he wants me to do, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “And what do I do?”

  “You don’t belong down here, hidden away with me,” he says, tearing his eyes from the cards. “You’re not meant for this, Stella. You should be out there, taking over the world, like you wanted to today. Didn’t you? That’s how it feels sometimes, when you transition. I know that. I used to, anyway…”

  “You’ll do it at the next full moon,” I assure him.

  “This is no place for you,” he says. “I’ve told you what I know. If you have more questions, your parents can answer them. You should be with them. And you…you don’t have anything to be afraid of, Stella. Look at you. Look what you did today.”

  “Yeah,” I say with a snort. “Look what I did. I’m afraid of…of what I might do.”

  “Just remember yourself,” he says, finishing the stack of cards. “Remember that you are who you are, no matter what form you take. You’re still you.”

  “And you’re still you.”

  His eyes are pools of sadness when he raises them to me. “Yes. I am.”

  “So that’s it? I just walk out of here. I’m free to go.”

  “You’re free to go,” he says with a sad smile on his perfect human lips, set above a nonexistent, furry chin. “Find your father. He can answer your questions better than I ever could. Go home and be with him. Be happy.”

  “I don’t think I have a home.”

  “You can hold your own against anyone. Go talk to your mother. It might be easier than you think. She and your father, your sisters, can help you make this decision. Figure out what you to do and where you want to go. It’s not my place to tell you, and it wouldn’t be, even if I was Alpha. You’re not a wolf. It was never my call, Stella. I just helped you see that.”

  “And if it was?”

  He smiles again and pushes the deck of cards aside. “I’d let you go conquer the world.”

  “Or get shot, like my father said.”

  “Then I’d let you go home, to where you used to live. To be happy. When you talk about that, there’s a look that comes over your face… You never look like that when you talk about this place. It’s the only time you’re happy, when you remember that. That’s where I’d want you to go.”<
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  That’s not there for me anymore, but something holds me back from telling Harmon that. If he wants to think of me that way, happy and headed home, then I’m not going to take away his false idea of me. Some part of me is still as proud and vain as he is, even after all this time. I like seeing myself that way, through his eyes.

  “Thank you,” I say at last.

  “Don’t thank me,” he says, shaking his head. “You know I’m not the one letting you go. I couldn’t stop you if I tried.”

  “I know.”

  “One last hand?” he asks, cutting his eyes towards the deck of cards.

  I stand, not sure what to say to him now. I’ve been his prisoner so long, it doesn’t seem real, that I can just walk out, be set loose in this big world with no one chasing me or hunting me down. “I should go.”

  “Yeah, you should.” He smiles up at me, his brow still sloping and prickled with black hairs, his eyes too round, too full of that glacial white-blue color. The shape of his head is still wrong, oblong though no longer pointed. But not human, either. It’s strange how normal his strangeness has become. Even with new changes, I can hardly remember what he used to look like. He’s still Harmon, no matter what he looks like.

  For a minute, I stand watching him, unsure of what to say or how to leave. And then it occurs to me that I can simply go. And so, I do. I turn and walk out, all the time expecting him to call me back, or leap to block my way. When I reach the top of the stairs, I pause. Some part of me wants him to stop me. But I’m leaving that part behind. I open the door, and step outside into the sun.

  29

  As I walk along the path to my mother’s, this time on human feet, I have time to marvel at everything. The trees are jungle-like in their lush greenery, draping over the dirt path. Bird and insects sing all around me, not just in the trees but everywhere. The scent of leaves, dirt, plants, and the forest is strong and warm. And I’m free to walk through it, to examine it, to make decisions about it. I’m not watching it from high above or down below. For the first time since I arrived, I’m part of the world around me.

  My muscles quiver with anticipation, and I know what’s about to happen. But I don’t want to lose control again, so I quiet the energy brewing inside me. My tiger growls in protest, but I hold firm, and she stills at last. I can’t spontaneously burst into tiger form every time I get excited. Wolves don’t do that. I don’t know about shifters. I don’t really know anything about them, except what the wolves have told me, and I know better than to trust them.

  What I need now is a home. So I walk on, even though it feels strange, like the world is suddenly too big, too bright, with too many possibilities. I’m a mole, thrown into the body of a bird, soaring high above the world and seeing all it has to offer. How do I choose what to do next, what to see, what I want? Those choices have belonged to someone else for so long I’m not sure I know anymore.

  Just as I do every time, I pause at the end of my mother’s sloping driveway. But not for long. Ahead, I hear voices and catch a glimpse of people walking towards me along the wide dirt track that leads through the community. I duck my head and hurry down the driveway, my heart pounding. I have no idea what they think of me now, after what I did. All I know is that Harmon’s invitation to join them is never going to happen. There is no way they’ll accept me as one of them after I terrorized my mother, their interim leader, in front of the entire pack.

  When I reach her front porch, I hesitate again. But they must hear me, because after a second, someone inside calls for me to come in. Zora. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’m no longer their prisoner, no longer their doormat. I don’t have to accept their derision and scorn any longer. And they sure as hell know it now.

  I turn the knob and push the door open.

  Everything stops.

  Zora, who is standing at the table, drops the envelope she’s holding. Little black seeds spill out and roll across the table. My mother, who is halfway reclined on the sofa, stops talking to Dr. Golden, who crouches beside her. Dr. Golden turns and freezes like the rest of them. Elidi, who is standing at the head of the couch, drops her gaze when I try to communicate something to her through our eyes, like I used to when I was trying to get out of here, begging for her help.

  She said she wanted to leave, but she’ll never leave. Like everyone else, she belongs here. Where do I belong—with the wild, violent shifters? The way everyone is looking at me gives me a pretty good idea what their answer to that question would be.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “You’re back,” Zora says, giving me a derisive once-over. I don’t think I imagine the touch of wariness in her voice, though, as if she’s waiting, testing to see if she can still get away with looking at me like a squashed bug on the bottom of her shoe. This time, I give her the look right back. If shifters are their enemy, then wolves are mine.

  “I came to get the key,” I say to my mother. “To get Dad out.”

  “I’ll be going, if there’s nothing else,” Dr. Golden says, standing. “I think you’ll be fine. No permanent damage.”

  I swallow hard. Permanent damage? I didn’t think I’d even hurt her. I didn’t mean to. Not really.

  “That would be fine,” Mother says to her, in the same voice she’d use to dismiss a servant. Maybe she speaks to everyone that way, not just me.

  “Stella,” she says, turning to me. “I gave you the key, didn’t I?”

  I have to swallow again. Seeing her, being back in this house with her and my sisters, feels as if I’m being sucked down into a whirlpool that I just managed to swim clear of. But I steady my nerves and plunge ahead. “That’s right,” I say. “And now I’m taking him. He told me what happened. That you were supposed to be my mother all these years, not my jailer. He told me everything.”

  She looks at me skeptically. “Everything.”

  “Yes, everything. There’s no reason for you to keep him in the attic. He hasn’t done anything except be who he is. Obviously being a shifter is a criminal offense to your people, as I know firsthand. It might have been nice to know my crime before you locked me up.”

  She keeps looking at me that way, a way that says I’m beyond stupid and irritating, and she has no time for such outbursts.

  I glance at Elidi one more time, hoping for…something. But she’s still a stranger, even if she is my twin. A stranger, and more than that. A chasm exists between us, one she always knew existed, even when I didn’t. I tried to bridge that, tried to be her sister, but she always knew we couldn’t be normal twins. We may look the same, but we’re not even the same species.

  I turn back to my mother, who has risen from the couch. “Very well,” she says, heading for the stairs without waiting for a reply.

  She’s doing what I asked. I can hardly believe it. Is she scared of me? Or just sick of me?

  This is what it feels like to win. It’s eerie.

  “Thank you,” I say. “I hope I didn’t hurt you earlier.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Dr. Golden was here…”

  “I had some pains in my chest.” She clomps up the stairs in her work boots, never glancing my way. “But it’s just some deep bruising.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need.”

  “And you’re really letting Dad go? Just like that?”

  “On the condition that you go, too.” She swings the door open and beckons me inside. Every instinct tells me not to go through, that she’ll slam the door and lock it.

  But I could break out.

  I drop my voice to a whisper when I see Dad lying on the bed, snoring. “Do I need to sign something, or…I don’t know, shake on it?”

  “I’ve made the decision. You are shifters, and now that you know, you can go back to where you belong.”

  “Perfect. A guy who can’t shift and someone who didn’t even know she was a shifter two days ago, in a community of violent outlaws. Any advice?”

  To my surprise, she smiles. �
�I guess your father didn’t tell you everything.”

  “What?” I ask, the beginning of hope edging into my words. “They aren’t violent criminals and you lied about that, too?”

  “No, they are,” she says. “Let’s just say your father is quite familiar with them.”

  My father finally stirs, then sits up and swings his feet off the bed. “Talia.”

  “Owen,” she says coolly. Seeing them together for the first time in my life, I try to picture them as a couple. As Mom and Dad, sitting around drinking coffee in their pajamas on Sunday morning, hugging at the window and watching snow fall outside, rushing us all to gymnastics practice. Somehow, the picture doesn’t quite materialize. I can’t imagine why they ever married at all, let alone why my father would love this ice queen.

  But maybe he had no choice. Harmon could have been wrong about that. A shifter and an important werewolf marrying to unite the tribes makes sense. And it explains the chilly silence between them as my mother hands me the keys, which I must have dropped in my haste to shift.

  “You are to leave immediately,” she says. “And this time, don’t come back. If you trespass again, expect to end up right back here.” As she speaks I unlock the chain around his waist, then his handcuffs.

  “Ah, that’s better,” Dad says, flexing his wrists. He gives my mother a wink. “I’ll be just over the mountain if you need me.”

  My mother pulls herself up to her full height, which isn’t enough to account for her imposing presence. “Take your daughter and leave,” she says coldly. “And don’t try to pawn her off on me again, Owen. We had an agreement. I didn’t saddle you with Elidi. I did my duty to our daughters. Now do yours. Don’t let me see either of you again. Shifters are not welcome in our valley.”

  “Come on, Stella,” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “I guess we’re not welcome here. Better get going.”

  Again, I can hardly believe it’s happening. I’m free of the wolves at long, long last. We step past my mother. Her lips tighten as we pass, as if she smells something unpleasant, which isn’t totally unjustified. After a week in a hot attic, my father doesn’t exactly smell super fresh.