Circe rolled her eyes at her sisters again. “Ursula’s deeds were not trifles!”
Lucinda continued. “Whatever our differing opinions may be, I will do what you ask because I love you far too much to watch you suffer and blame yourself for Tulip’s unhappiness.”
Martha looked panicked. “But what will we give her? Nothing too precious, nothing from the vault!”
Ruby was also in a panic over the thought of giving something away to Ursula. “Circe would have us give away all our treasures! First one of our enchanted mirrors, now what?”
Lucinda, who seemed unusually calm, quelled Martha’s fears. “Don’t worry, we won’t part with anything too precious. I promise.”
Then she looked to Circe. “I assume you will be off to Morningstar Castle straightaway?”
Circe had in fact decided she would venture out there right away.
“Yes, I will.” Lucinda went to the pantry and pushed a few things about until she found what she was looking for: a little velvet drawstring bag.
“When you get there, go to the cliffs and give Ursula this. She will be waiting for you.” And she added, “Tulip’s beauty will be returned.”
Circe smiled, transforming herself from her just awoken disheveled state to one that was more than presentable for a journey to Morningstar Kingdom. “I’ll be off, then. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m away. It may be some time before I return.”
The Beast woke on the floor in a room he seldom visited. It was dark except for the pink glow of the enchanted rose the sisters had given him on the night of the curse so long ago; its light was hazy under the protective glass dome that covered it, and its petals were few. His anger and anxiety seemed to have subsided after overhearing Belle refusing to dine with him. The maelstrom of his life had finally stopped spinning in his head, and he was able to focus on the present. The present. Belle. How long had she been here?
He could hear her in the hall. She was in the West Wing! She knew it was forbidden. He had told her so! It sounded like she was talking to Pflanze as they made their way through the wing. Why did women insist on talking to cats as if they understood what they were saying? He could never grasp the concept. He hid behind a changing screen, waiting to see if she was going to enter the room. She did. His heart raced. She was drawn to the rose, spellbound by its beauty. Her curiosity pulled her to it as the Beast’s panic rose, triggering his anger to dangerous proportions. He snatched the domed lid from her hands and slammed it back into place, making sure the delicate flower wasn’t damaged. His anger raged. All he saw was Belle’s terrified face.
“This room is forbidden! Now get out!” She stuttered, trying to find words to defend herself, but her fear took hold of her shaking body and she ran out of the castle and into the forest. She was alone and in despair. She didn’t care any longer about her promise to stay in her father’s place.
She wanted to leave, to go home. Her father would understand. Together they would find a way to defeat the Beast. She refused to be his prisoner one more night. She ran so far and so deep into the forest she could no longer see the sky overhead; the trees were tall and thick, and obscured every bit of light the moon might have lent. The tree branches looked menacing, like witches’ hands seeking her death, and she heard howls in the distance. She was alone and afraid.
The odd sisters laughed and stomped their boots in outright bliss when they saw through Pflanze’s eyes what was happening to Belle. The Beast had chased away any hope of breaking the curse. They sang and danced, laughing all the while. “The Beast chased away his chance to break the curse!” “The girl is going to die!”
If Circe were there, she’d want to help the poor girl, but her older sisters had something else entirely in mind. They were quite happy with themselves. They’d thought ahead; they’d thought to keep Circe busy with the sea witch. They’d asked Ursula to keep her there for as long as she could manage. They didn’t want their little sister meddling in their plans. Circe didn’t embrace death the way her sisters did. She wouldn’t approve.
Lucinda took a little pouch that was tied to the belt around her impossibly small waist. Inside the pouch was a deep purple powder, which she sprinkled into the fireplace. A terrible black smoke rose from the fire, taking the form of a wolf’s head. Its dead shadowy eyes glowed a blazing copper.
Lucinda spoke. “Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!”
The witches laughed and watched the wolves advance on Belle. They encircled her, growling at her, showing their terrible sharp teeth. They snapped at her, one of them ripping her dress. She screamed.
This time the sisters said the words together: “Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!”
Belle screamed again, keenly aware she was about to die. There was nothing she could do! She had nothing with which to protect herself. She looked for something, anything, that she could use as a weapon.
The sisters continued their chanting. “Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!”
The wolves were upon her. How she wished she could see her father just one more time before she died; she couldn’t bear to think of him living in a world without her. He would be lost.
“Send the wolves into the wood, scratch and bite until she bleeds, kill the beauty in the wood, make him regret his evil deeds!” The sisters were in a lunatic trance. Lucinda, delving even further into their manic frenzy, changed the chant: “Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
Something flew past Belle—another wolf, she thought, but no, it was enormous. Far too big to be a wolf. She didn’t know what was happening. But the sisters saw; they knew what it was.
“Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
The creature was impossibly large and ferocious, with huge talon-like claws and sharp terrible teeth. Belle was in sheer panic as the sisters’ gruesome chant grew louder and more feverish.
“Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
Belle didn’t want to die. She’d hardly had a chance to experience life. So far she’d simply read about the many things she’d like to experience, but she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do them. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to be brave, trying not to regret her choices.
“Rip her throat, make her bleed, eat her flesh, my words you’ll heed!”
The creature rushed past her, attacking the wolves, killing them all in a bloody slaughter. It all happened so quickly Belle hardly had time to react before it was over. She looked up and saw she was surrounded by blood. The earth was soaked in it; everywhere she looked she saw death. Blood, fur, and flesh. It was terrible. What sort of monster could do this? She wanted to run but saw the creature. He looked hurt. The monster that had saved her life was going to die; he was bruised and bleeding, and exhausted from the fight. Her heart went out to him. Something inside Belle told her not to run, told her the creature needed her help.
The sisters watched in shock, realizing their mistake. They should never have sent those wolves to kill Belle. The Beast was chasing her into the woods because he was angry; his rage would have overtaken him and he would have killed her himself. The wolves were a distraction. The wolves were their mistake. The wolves were dead and scattered on the forest floor. The wolves’ blood was black and sticky on the creature’s paws. The wolves would bring them together.
The witches’ only solace was that Belle had seen the Beast for what he was. She had seen the violence he was capable of.
“She will be repulsed by him! Sickened by the death that surrounds him!”
But if any one of us were there, standing near that fire,
and could see the looks on the sisters’ faces, we would see the sister witches feared the contrary. Why? Because they could see the look on Belle’s face. They could detect her compassion for the Beast. After all, he had just saved her life. The odd sisters decided they needed to take further action.
“It’s time to send Pflanze to see Gaston.”
“Oh yes, Sister! I’m sure he would like to know where his dearest Belle has gotten off to!”
And Ruby added, “I bet he would, and I am sure if anyone could destroy the Beast, it would be him!”
Belle wasn’t the sort of girl who got bored easily, but she found herself tired of being trapped withindoors. It was too cold to go outside, so she sat idly in the small study next to the fire, wondering when she would see the Beast.
She had grown less cross with him since he had saved her from the wolves, but she couldn’t forget why she had run out into the forest, and into danger: his terrible temper. She played the scene in her head over and over. The wolves, the woods, the Beast, the blood. She had almost died that night because of his rage, and why? Because she touched his precious rose? Though her anger and fear hadn’t stopped her mending his wounds, had it? She supposed it was the least she could do after he’d saved her life.
Oh, stop this! she thought. She spent far too much time thinking. That was all she did.
Think.
Analyze.
Brood.
She wondered how the women from the stories she loved to read could bear it. Sitting around all day so idle, just waiting to hear the day’s news from men. But that was exactly what she was doing now, wasn’t it? Waiting for the Beast. There was nothing for her to do in the castle, and she thought she would go mad from the banality. At least at home with Father she had her books, and she could help with his inventions. He needed her. She needed him. She missed him, and she even missed the people from the village.
It was true: everyone in the village thought she was queer for reading so much, and she didn’t exactly behave like other girls. So what if she was more interested in reading about princesses than being one herself? She felt thankful her father always gave her the freedom to express herself how she wished and live her life the way she thought was right. He allowed her to be herself. Not many young women had that freedom, and she was starting to understand what a rare and beautiful life she had been living until recently.
Here she was stifled and alone.
The Beast watched her as she sat in the little red chair next to the fireplace.
She didn’t know he was standing there. Her face was squished up in disapproval. Like she was reproaching herself inwardly. She was probably scolding herself for mending his wounds, but she couldn’t know the truth. How could she?
She didn’t know he just as easily could have killed her had the wolves not been there to distract him. Imagine it; imagine if he had killed her. How horrible, how utterly ghastly that he could do such a thing. Another terrible deed added to the long list—a list no doubt being tallied by those witches. He was sure it would have been the final act of evil that would have pushed his dark heart into further decay, and the witches would be here now to mock him. He would have lost himself completely, if he hadn’t already. Surely there was something left of himself. He wasn’t entirely a beast now, was he? If he was, wouldn’t he have killed her? He wouldn’t have cared about breaking the curse. As it was, he needed her desperately. She was his last chance. He wasn’t sure if he deserved this chance, but he saw Belle’s arrival at the castle as a sign he should try.
How could he possibly make himself love her? Truly fall in love with someone like her? She was nothing like the girls he fancied. She was beautiful, yes, but not the in ways he usually admired. It would never work, and even if he did fall in love with her, how could she ever fall in love with him?
It was hopeless.
He was loathsome.
He saw that now, for the first time. He saw how vile he’d become, and he felt he deserved Circe’s punishment.
Perhaps this, right here, was his punishment: never knowing what it was to love.
Belle looked up at him and smiled. He hadn’t expected that. “Belle, will you come with me?” She raised one eyebrow and gave him a sly smile like she didn’t trust him.
“Okay.”
They walked past the vestibule and into a long passageway she hadn’t yet seen. It was sparse except for a small red velvet bench and a lonely gargoyle statue, and at the end of the passage was a large arched doorway. When they reached the door, the Beast said, “Belle, there is something I want to show you.” He started to open the door but stopped himself. He was surprised by his nervousness.
“But first you have to close your eyes.”
She gave him that look again, like she didn’t trust him. Honestly, how could she? he thought, but she did seem intrigued and slightly more comfortable in his company, which gave him hope.
“It’s a surprise!” he said, and she closed her eyes. She could feel the passing of his hand in front of her face to be sure she wasn’t peeking. Both of them were so untrusting of each other. He took her by the hands and led her into what seemed like a vast open space. She could tell by the sound her footsteps were making.
“Can I open them?” Her voice echoed. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought perhaps they were in a cathedral.
“No. No. Wait here!” He released her hands. She heard a swish and then felt warm sunlight on her face.
“Now can I open them?” He was actually enjoying this, giving her this gift, and he found himself smiling for the first time in ages.
“All right, now!” he said, and she opened her eyes, which widened at the remarkable sight. “I can’t believe it! I’ve never seen so many books in my entire life!” The Beast hadn’t expected to feel this way, hadn’t expected what it would mean to him to make someone so happy.
“You—you like it?” he asked, and she did, more than she could express.
“It’s wonderful!” she said, happier than he’d ever seen her before.
“Then it’s yours.” And he felt something completely unexpected. What had started out as a way to bring them closer together for the sake of breaking the curse turned into something else, something he didn’t understand.
He loved making her happy.
“Oh, thank you so much!” Books! Books made her happy. She wasn’t like any girl he’d ever known before, and he thought perhaps he liked it. In fact, he was sure he did.
The odd sisters were in a panic. Even they could see Belle was warming up to the Beast, and the Beast—well, he was experiencing something quite unique to him and utterly terrifying to the witches.
They had to do something.
They had their hands full keeping watch over Belle and the Beast, and now Gaston as well, since they had sent Pflanze to keep an eye on him. They were so consumed they never left the house for fear they’d miss an opportunity to sink their claws further into the Prince’s withering heart.
“Just look at them playing in the snow!” hissed Ruby.
“Disgusting!” spat Martha.
“Look at the way she looks at him! Peeking at him coyly from behind that tree! You don’t think she’s falling in love with him, do you?” screamed Lucinda.
“She couldn’t possibly!”
The sisters spent all their time now spying on Belle and the Beast, and with each day their panic grew. It was becoming painfully clear they were falling in love!
“Those damn servants aren’t helping. They contrive romance at every opportunity!” squealed Ruby.
Ruby, Martha, and Lucinda must have looked a mess when Circe returned from her visit to Morningstar Castle. When they heard her come in, the three of them turned as one, startled to see their little sister standing in the doorway. “Oh! Hello!” they said together, looking frightfully tired and rather crazed fro
m long nights of fretting, spying, and plotting.
Circe could see something was amiss.
“What is all this?” Circe asked.
Lucinda tried to put on her best face, though having not seen herself in a mirror for several days, she had no idea how frightful she looked. “What do you mean, dear?” she said with a twitch and sputter.
Circe narrowed her eyes, looking as though she was scanning her for some shred of the truth.
“This place! It’s a disaster! What on earth have you been up to?”
The odd sisters just stood there. For once they had nothing to say. Lucinda’s ringlets were tangled much like a bird’s nest, with little bits of dried herbs and candle wax stuck within them, while Ruby’s red silk skirt was covered in gray ash and the feathers in her hair were sticking out at even stranger angles than usual, and poor Martha—her face was smudged with some kind of orange powder.
They all stood there before their little sister acting as if their appearance was as normal as could be—like Circe was stupid or didn’t have eyes in her head to see they were up to some sort of trickery.
“Spell work, I see!” Circe scolded. “You know, whatever you’re doing, I’ve decided I don’t want to know! Honestly, I don’t feel like dealing with whatever it is! So, is anyone going to ask me how it went with the sea witch?”
Ruby croaked her reply: “And how was it, dear? Did you send our greetings?” Circe gave a start at the sound of her sister’s voice but kept her questions about what they’d been doing to herself.
“She’s very well, and was quite pleased with the exchange.” She went on, “You know, out of all your strange friends I like Ursula best. She’s very amusing.”
The sisters laughed, croakily, their voices wrecked from their endless chanting.
Circe couldn’t keep herself from asking this time, “Seriously, what have you been up to? Look at yourselves. You’re a mess, and what happened to your voices? Why are you so hoarse?”
The Beast Within Page 9