The Beast

by Lindsay Mead

  “I had expected the Prince to pull me into a moon dream and explain everything to me, alleviate my concerns.” Belle followed her father, watching him examine the position of the simulated stars. “He did not, and now I’m questioning myself as well as him.”

  Henri scratched his beard and tilted his head to get a different angle on the constellations. “I suppose I can understand your concern, but beyond that, what would cause you to doubt the Prince?”

  “I…” Belle searched for an answer. “I do not know.”

  “Did you not trust him before? Did your instincts ever warn you away from him?” Henri straightened and looked at her as he asked his questions, then crossed the floor to one of his desks. He opened a leather book and scribbled notes within. “When you went back to Vakre Fjell seeking help, did Monsieur Petit say anything that would give you pause? Or ring untrue?”

  “No! No, nothing like that,” Belle rushed out to stop his flow of questioning. “I’ve never felt cause to mistrust them.”

  “Then you must have faith in them.” He snapped the book shut and looked at her. “And faith in yourself. You’re a LeClair, your instincts are impeccable.”

  “But what about what you said in the dungeon?” she added, not completely able to shake her discontent. “About there being true evil in that castle?”

  Henri looked off into the dense ocean water, his eyes shifting just out of focus. His voice was soft, sad, as he remembered. “I’d watched many of my old friends die violently that day—all for the sake of my invention, no less. Sitting in that dank dungeon on that day…everything looked evil to me. I’m an old man, Belle. Too old, I think, for all this.”

  His thoughts still looked so far away.

  Belle stepped across the cold floor to grasp his big, callused hands in hers. “You’re not so old as you think. Tired perhaps, but so am I.”

  He smiled warmly, chasing away their dark thoughts, and squeezed her hands.

  “What are you doing awake so late?” She curled an eyebrow as the sudden thought came to her.

  Henri chuckled. “As tired as I may be, work still invigorates me the same as it did when I was a fanatical, young lad.”

  “What are you working on?” Instantly Belle was taken back to her childhood when she would spend hours watching Henri work and sharing his inventions with her. She was so grateful for the distraction now.

  “I’m experimenting with a substance called aether.” He grabbed something from his desk and placed it in Belle’s hand.

  It was a small glass sphere that was encircled by two brass rings, much like the Constellation Apparatus. Holding it up in the light, Belle marveled at the substance within the globe. It was a swirl of purple and yellow electricity. The snapping lightning curled in on itself and traced the shield of glass; always in motion.

  “It is the quintessence of air,” Henri said, causing Belle to look at him sideways and he rushed on to explain. “It is the unseen force between you and me—even the blackness between the stars.” He sighed, his eyes drifting into the depths of the orb. “Its uses are endless. Without it birds could not fly, light could not travel, and gravity would not exist.”

  “How did you come by it?” She turned the object over in her hands, trying to imagine the aether surrounding everything.

  “Monsieur Genov,” Henri answered, giving the name of his American colleague—the one that specialized in unusual creatures, and was also an inventor. Belle’s father picked up a redwood box from his desk. “He managed to harness the mysterious element and is using it to give ships flight.”

  “Flight?!” Handing the orb back to Henri, he tucked it safely into the dark, velvety folds of the box.

  “Yes, indeed, flight.” Henri grinned, excitement dancing in his eyes. “He says they’ll be called airships and, with the help of this fantastic substance, the first commercial flight is underway.”

  “Remarkable,” Belle whispered.

  “Imagine, great, white sails could be soaring the American skies as we speak.” They were both silent as they did just that. Henri then chuckled and came back to himself. “Marvelous. Anyway, he sent me this sample to experiment with.”

  “That was kind of him.”

  “Genov has both an engineering and entrepreneurial mind. He thinks big.” Henri waved his arms, emphasizing his words with his hands. “Great locomotives and now airships. Whereas my mind tends to veer toward more practical applications. We think differently, you see, and as inventors we have an obligation to explore all avenues.” He placed the box within a drawer in his desk and used a key from his breast pocket to lock it.

  “Perhaps you could do something with heating?” Belle touched Henri’s shoulder and leaned to kiss his whiskered cheek. “A portable heating source, for those without a carriage. Could do well in areas such as ours.”

  “Indeed, one must have cold blood to live in God’s Cup, or perhaps very hot blood. I’m not really sure which makes more sense,” Henri said with a chuckle that shook his shoulders. “Are you going to bed?”

  “Yes, I may not have all of the answers yet, but you’ve eased my mind considerably.” She gave her father a hug and he squeezed her back.

  “I am glad. Give it time, my little Bellerina.” He smiled, using his childhood nickname for her. “Sleep well.”

  A fist slammed several times against her bedroom door. The bangs ricocheted off the metal walls. Belle was jerked from her sleep.

  Jack called for her, shouting, “The Prince is rampaging. We need you now! Belle!”

  Just like that, with a toss of her covers, Belle was up and out of bed. Pixie flew past her, chittering excitedly. There was no time to dress, so Belle grabbed the sheer robe from next to her bed and draped it over her. Pixie landed on her shoulder, clutching the white fabric.

  As Jack started banging again, Belle went to the door and opened it.

  “Enjoy your beauty sleep, Princess?” he said quickly, before turning to jog down the hall.

  “I’m no Princess!” She followed after, her robe and hair fluttering about her. Belle shouted over the bangs, “What’s going on?”

  “His Highness woke up and went feral,” the cowboy said over his shoulder with more irritation than worry in his voice. “Doc got out and shut him in the room. Not a scratch on the ol’ boy somehow.”

  The fact that Belle hadn’t heard the ruckus was a testament both to her deep sleep and the thick metal walls. Belle didn’t ask any more questions as they approached the group gathered outside Aleksander’s door. Everyone was there, including Bishop Sauvage and Father Sinclair. Belle was dismayed to see that they had come now, of all times. Doc stood at the back, looking like he needed a drink, and the Hunters all had weapons at the ready.

  Belle halted just as something slammed into the wooden door. Bits of wood splintered around thick black claws. Everyone froze as the fingers gripped and ungripped the wood. Then with an angry roar, the Prince jerked his hand free.

  “This is preposterous. He needs to be put down,” the Bishop argued to Henri.

  Belle’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to kill the Vakrein Prince? Are you mad?”

  Bishop Sauvage’s nostrils flared and he glared contemptuously. “That ceased to matter when he became the devil incarnate.”

  “My God.” Belle shook her head, then pushed past Jean and Gastone who stood in front of the door, waiting for it to give way—or a decision to be made. Someone called for her to stop, but she didn’t.

  With no weapons on her body, Belle grasped the brass doorknob and turned it. She pulled the door open and made to step forward. At the sound of the intrusion, the beast was across the room too fast for her mind to keep up. His roar blasted her ears, sending an instinctual fear into her bones. A massively clawed paw came down toward her.

  It froze. The creature that was Aleksander towered over her, nearly a foot taller than the man she knew. He stared down at her. Anger curled his lips, but his eyes flashed recognition. Aleksander was so close to her, his bre
ath wafted against her hair. Gradually, his paw dropped to his side. He never looked away.

  Pixie’s metal joints literally shook at the nape of Belle’s neck where she’d taken refuge. Belle didn’t move; didn’t speak. She allowed the rage and tension to seep from the room. He was a beast of monstrous proportions, but Belle knew him. She knew that beneath the rage and terrifying exterior was her prince. The evidence was in his blue eyes—eyes that were now wolf-like—and the way they looked at her.

  Belle dared to speak. “It’s all right. I’m right here.”

  Aleksander’s breathing slowed. His head dropped just an inch closer to hers. Belle placed her hand carefully on his chest. The fur was soft to the touch and the heart beneath pounded strong and steady. His muzzle grazed her hair and she felt the intake of breath as he scented her. With her free hand, Belle gestured to the Hunters behind her. Several clicks indicated the lowering of guns, but she didn’t fool herself that there still weren’t a few pointed his way.

  Belle pulled back just slightly to look into the Prince’s eyes again. “Will you wait in here for just a moment while I settle this? I won’t be long and I’ll be right outside this door.”

  Prince Aleksander stared at her, making her wonder if he could even understand her in this form. Then he stepped back, drawing himself to full height. He really was unlike anything they’d ever seen before. A hellhound with a body that was truly a blend of man and beast, that somehow walked on two legs…She would have thought it was impossible.

  Aleksander glared at the other Hunters, his eyes sending unspoken warnings. As Belle reached for the door, he looked back to her and held her eyes until the second the door closed. She took a deep breath, settling and preparing herself, then turned around.

  Gastone spoke first. Anger radiated from him. “What the hell was that?”

  “Golly,” said Jack, looking at her with wide eyes. “I never thought I’d say this to a lady, but you’ve got some serious balls—”

  Jean smacked the back of his head.

  “You could’ve been killed,” Gastone went on like he hadn’t spoken.

  “She could’ve gotten us all killed,” Nicolas added, but it was more of a matter-of-fact statement than one of accusation.

  “No, I know him,” Belle piped in before anyone else could. “I knew he wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “Bull—” Gastone’s finger went up like he was about to truly give her a verbal thrashing, but he stopped himself. He closed his eyes, balling his hand into a fist.

  Henri picked up where he left off. “He does not seem like the civilized prince you described to us.”

  Gastone pointed at her father, indicating that he’d taken the words from his mouth.

  “It is him. He’s just confused,” Belle said to her father. He was the only one she had to convince. “A lot has happened to him in such a short amount of time, but I know the man inside of the beast. He is a good man.”

  A snort of derision turned everyone’s attention to Bishop Sauvage. “A flight of fancy from a female reaching her childbearing years, nothing more.” The comment was such a slap in the face, Belle found herself almost dumbfounded. She risked her life for the church and this was how they saw her? The Bishop preached further, “His very existence is a blight against God. You must do your duty!”

  “No!” Belle shouted, starting to lose her temper. “You are wrong about him and killing him, at the very least, would be an act against the Vakrein crown. Would you risk open war?”

  “If it must be done, then so be it!” Bishop Sauvage’s face was beat red at this point, spit flying with his words. Father Sinclair stood back, unease rolling off of him.

  “That’s enough,” Henri interrupted, stopping the escalating argument. “I do not know what the correct course of action is, but it does not need to be decided right now. We will revisit this after we’ve all had time to think it through.” Henri’s eyes darted to each person, waiting for objections that would never come. “Bishop, Father, I’ll ride with you into town. I have some business there.”

  “Merci. I believe that is best,” Father Sinclair said, speaking for the first time.

  Henri let the clergymen leave first. Bishop Sauvage looked down his nose at Belle as he went. Henri, however, paused just long enough to grab her hand and stare meaningfully into her eyes. Belle didn’t know if he was trying to tell her something, but either way she knew what she had to do.

  “Doc,” Belle said quietly so that her voice wouldn’t carry down the hall. The Hunters tilted their heads to listen. “For general anesthesia, do you use Chloroform or Diethyl Ether?”

  “Chloroform, of course,” he said like the question was an affront, which Belle assumed was a doctor thing. “How do you know about general anesthesia?”

  “She reads a lot,” Nicolas said, his eyes widening for emphasis. The others chuckled and nodded.

  Belle frowned, but otherwise ignored them. “The British Medical Journal had an article on the use of it. I’d like to test one of those uses presently.”

  The doctor curled an eyebrow, then looked sidelong at her. He unscrewed the silver flask in his hand and tipped it to his lips. After a gulp, he asked, “You wish to go into a chemically induced sleep?”

  “What?!” exclaimed Gastone with all the appall of a spinster listening to scandalous gossip.

  “Not just me, the Prince as well.” She glared at Gastone, imploring him to keep his voice down, in case the churchmen hadn’t left yet. “In order for us to communicate, we must moon dream. For that to happen, we must both be asleep.”

  “Then wait till tonight and go to sleep naturally.” Gastone looked as though he wanted to shake her. Every muscle in his body was tightened to the hilt.

  “I fear we may not have time. The Bishop is out for blood.” Belle looked to her Hunters, making her case. “He does not care if I get the answers I need from Prince Aleksander first.”

  “What sort of questions?” Calming significantly, Gastone leaned against the wall and closer to her. His tone was soft, vulnerable even.

  “What is he? How was he able to turn human?” Belle said quietly with a shrug of her shoulders. She didn’t want Aleksander to hear her through the door, but she was also feeling a bit vulnerable herself. “Why did he keep it from me?”

  Andre reached out and gently squeezed her arm. “All very valid questions.”

  “It’s dangerous, Belle,” Doc said, pressing his lips into a thin line but still looking like he was prepared to cave. “If the Chloroform is not administered correctly, there is a chance you may not wake up.”

  “I have full faith in you, Doc.” Belle turned and grabbed the doorknob. “But let me speak to his Royal Highness first, make sure he’s willing.”

  “One of us should come in there with you.” Gastone pushed off the wall, ready to be that one.

  “No, it’ll be easier if we’re alone.” She waved him off and twisted the knob.

  Gastone grabbed her hand, preventing her from opening the door. He held out his personal revolver. “At least take this. For my peace of mind.”

  Belle frowned, most certainly not wanting to. She took it with a sigh and stuffed it into her robe’s pocket. It was too heavy for the garment, causing the fabric to hang oddly. Suddenly remembering the other object she had stashed, Belle reached up into her hair and extracted the mechanical pixie hiding there.

  “Take her to my room, will you?” Belle said, releasing the fairy into Gastone’s calloused hands.

  Gastone nodded. Pixie grasped his curled fingers, staring at Belle with wide, black eyes. A string of notes sang from her throat. Belle touched her gently on the nose, then opened the door to Aleksander’s room. He was standing in the corner as she stepped through and closed the door behind her.

  The room felt too small. She remained by the door and he in his corner—a corner that barely fit him. His chest shook with his labored breathing, his shoulders slouched, and some of his wounds had reopened. Despite his display of beas
tliness before, Aleksander was not fully healed from his transformation. It was abundantly clear now that his excursion was catching up to him.

  “Aleksander, it’s time you gave me the truth,” she said plainly.

  The Prince met her stare unblinkingly. With a deep breath, Belle made her proposal.

  Belle remained near while the doctor worked. She didn’t touch Aleksander or speak openly to him. Instead she sat in a corner chair, watching quietly with her hands folded in her lap.

  In the time it took for the Doc to retrieve his necessary equipment from town, Belle had donned the blue dress from her visit to the Observation Room and pinned her hair up in a simple bun. It wasn’t her best look, but at least now she was somewhat decently dressed for the company of men—and beast.

  Also, somewhere in that time, a tension had formed between Belle and Aleksander. It was mostly coming from her, she was certain, but there was nothing for it. The moment she’d stepped into Aleksander’s room to explain the Chloroform idea, she’d started to feel it. Belle didn’t want to be near the Prince. She didn’t want to look at him, talk to him, or have anything to do with him. The feeling was uncomfortable like it was a substance inside her that just didn’t belong and forced everything out of place.

  She couldn’t wait for this to be over and she prayed their relationship would return to normal. Belle wanted it to feel comfortable again, safe. She wanted the fear of what he might soon tell her to finally go away.

  In Aleksander’s room, all of the furniture had been overturned. A chair was in pieces and there were jagged scratches marking the metal walls. Had he tried to claw through it? Even the bed had been flipped and landed several paces from its place. They’d had to right it, just so the doc could work.