Shifting my gaze to the other half of the room, I was greeted by a silky-black grand piano. It was positioned on a light colored rug with black accents, displaying intricate swirls, like the vibrations of its music were imprinted onto the rug. A white chaise lounge sofa and a few chairs surrounded the piano in an elegant display, like he’d tried meshing two very different styles in one space, separated only by the three large antler chandeliers hanging from the log rafters in the middle of the room. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d made them himself. The image of his wolf sinking bloody teeth into an elk’s neck made me shudder and my stomach gave a nauseating flip. I was thankful he didn’t have animal heads mounted on the walls, or else I would’ve dry-heaved.
I quickly diverted my eyes back to the ivory piano keys. Though I’d taken a few lessons as a child, I was never very good. Yet, my fingers itched to play the beautiful instrument. In that moment, I believed the piano itself could transform my clumsy plunking into a concert worthy of an audience.
I felt Beast’s presence next to me. “Your room is up those stairs.”
He pointed past the piano to a long staircase. Like the floor in the grand room, the stairs were also hardwood. Polished pieces of knotted logs and branches characterized the railing, with dark streaks embedded randomly throughout the wood.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, tilting my head toward Beast.
He smiled, “I’m glad you approve. I’ll carry your things up to your room while you explore the library.”
I’d almost forgotten! My face brightened, unable to hold back my excitement.
“Where?” I exclaimed.
His smile literally glowed with pleasure, and he offered me his arm. I eyed it with reserve. I couldn’t explain the trepidation and flutters that assaulted my stomach. I’d just had my hand on his arm, but now it suddenly felt like an intimate gesture, like the tides were changing. I was on his home ground now, and I was afraid I might lose myself in the flow. Tentatively, I slid my arm through his and allowed him to guide me in the opposite direction of the stairs.
Passing the fireplace, I spied a massive painting of the Teton Mountains above the mantle. My gaze drifted lower, and I swear I saw images deep in the recesses of the fireplace. I stopped, and squinted into the shadows, trying to decipher it, but Beast tugged me along.
“You don’t want to ruin your surprise.”
At first his words confused me but then I realized what I was seeing through the fireplace. It was the library, one fireplace for both rooms—very cool.
Glass, French doors stood before me. The darkened glass revealed nothing, distorting the moonlit room that held the promised books.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
Eagerly, I complied. The anticipation climbed when I felt the air move around me as he flung the doors open and flicked on the lights, throwing red dots under my closed eyelids. I expected him to tell me I could open my eyes, but he just moved me further into the room. I waited for as long as I could before speaking.
“Now?” my voice plead with child-like excitement.
“Now,” he answered.
Opening my eyes, I squealed in delight. Stepping into the middle of the room, I memorized every detail. Columns of books filled the dark oak shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, fifteen feet up, and lined every wall of the room. A rolling ladder was anchored to the wall, providing the means to pluck books off the top shelves. The room was half the size of the grand room, but it was the grandest of all to me. Arm chairs were scattered around the room, inviting me to take a seat, blending perfectly into the color of the book shelves. I could spend a lifetime and not read all of these books. There had to be thousands. I turned to find Beast smiling, and I returned it with a warm smile of my own. Maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad.
Guilt raced through me. How could I be happy about this arrangement? Aunt Lily was probably spiraling back into a depression because of me. Looking at the plush chairs, I couldn’t help imagining my mother in this very room, but with her image came wisps of three other nameless girls. Had they been turned into wolves like my mother? A part of his pack?
I glanced back at Beast. His smile stretched his already flat nose flatter and his lips practically hid under his unruly beard. I remembered how he’d almost killed Todd that day he tripped and skinned his palm. Was I then staring into the face of a killer? The thought was sickening, and I was desperate to hear my fears denounced.
“Beast, what happened to the other girls you brought here?”
His smile vanished, and he looked ready to bolt.
“Are they wolves like my mother?” There was a hopeful edge to my voice. It wasn’t that I was happy they were wolves, but the alternative was haunting.
Beast shifted, turning to gaze at the night through the window. “All but one.”
I managed to swallow the lump of fear choking my throat. “What happened?”
“Heart failure,” Beast whispered, barely audible. “The shock of the bond setting in was too much for her. I couldn’t calm her down fast enough.” Blame and disgust clear in his voice.
“I’m sorry.” What else was I supposed to say?
“Sorry?” he sneered. “It was this beastly face that killed her.” He faced me straight on, for the full effect. I shivered under his penetrating silver streaked glare. “The horror of it stopped her heart.” He strode out of the doors and slammed them shut behind him.
I jumped. That poor girl. I knew the fright of that first glimpse of Beast, and yet there was another side to him—an almost gentle side that he hid well. I slumped into one of the chairs, unnerved by the whole experience. My head pounded a steady beat, and I needed an escape of my own. Scanning titles, I was happily surprised to find modern books mixed with the classics. I ran my finger over the entire collection of William Shakespeare. But I wasn’t in the mood to read his books, though an early copy of Twelfth Night looked tempting.
Moving to a different shelf, I found many books I’d never heard of before: Midnight's Children, The Magnificent Ambersons, and My Antonia, among others.
Striding to another wall, my eyes fell on a worn copy of Christy. I was surprised to find it in Beast’s collection. It was definitely a chick book.
When I was twelve, I remember Aunt Lily laying a copy of Christy on my dresser with a note: Enjoy. Though I would never admit it to Chel, I liked the book and the sweet love story between Christy and the doctor who was twice her age.
Opening the book, I flipped to the title page and my hand froze. There in the top right hand corner, in faded black ink, was scribbled the name: Rosalyn Jonas—my mother’s name.
My fingers trembled. She had turned these very pages and read these very same words. Delicately, I closed the book and brought it to my chest, hugging it like it was my mother. I couldn’t help the tears that silently streamed down my cheeks.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Beast found me huddled in one of the many plush chairs with my mother’s copy of Christy clutched tightly to my chest. I stared at the hollowed fireplace like it was an echo of my own heartache. He stepped into my line of sight, and his gaze fell from my face to the book, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he lifted me out of the chair by the elbow and directed me upstairs to my new room, the same room where my mother had probably slept. I numbly followed.
CHAPTER 26—Horrors of Frozen Meat
Friday, April 6
Sunlight streamed brightly through the window. Squinting from its intensity, I fumbled to locate my cell on the night stand. When my fingers curled around it, I threw the covers over my head, blocking the blinding sun. Fluorescent green numbers told me it was 11:34 a.m. Holy crap! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept this late. Was this going to be my life now? Sleeping my days away, hoping my problems would just disappear?
Staring up from my cloud-like bed, I studied the sheer, white fabric that puckered on the ceiling over the middle of my four-poster, canopy bed. It billowed over
the top bed frame before gathering into streams twisting down the bed post. Garlands of dried flowers were carefully displayed around the hand carved wood, connecting all four posts above me.
Tossing the covers off, I forced my eyes to adjust to the bright light of day. I wouldn’t fall into some sleeping depression. The image of Aunt Lily lying motionless in bed, staring at nothing, sent a frozen tendril of dread through me. I would never lose hold of reality, or let depression steal my life from me either. I just needed to design my own schedule and punish myself for negligence. No matter how hard life got, I always had my books, and no beast or curse was going to keep me from them.
It was Friday and right now I was missing my history quiz.
I felt ill.
I’d never flunked anything before. Actually, I’d never missed a test, but I wasn’t going back to public school, so it didn’t matter. Eventually, Aunt Lily would have to pretend to pull me out for “homeschool” before teachers became suspicious.
My fingers itched to call Chel. I’d only left her a brief text explaining that I’d gone camping with Grandma, but knew it was inadequate. There was so much I wished I could explain. I wanted to say good-bye in person, so she wouldn’t think I was just running out on her, but Beast forbade it, threatening to confiscate my phone.
Looking at the top line of my cell, there were no bars next to the upside-down triangle on a stick. There was no signal up here, wherever here was exactly. I figured we were somewhere close to Yellowstone and the Teton National Forest, but still a large enough area to get lost in its dense woods.
Pulling my reluctant body out of bed, I grabbed a set of clothes from the dark walnut dresser where a flat screen TV sat with an alluring selection of Blu-rays stacked next to it. I would definitely make use of that luxury later. Exiting my room, I didn’t worry about Beast seeing me in my cotton tank top and silk shorts. He made it clear last night that the entire top floor was for my use. Considering the top floor consisted only of my room and an elaborately large bathroom, I believed him when he said he didn’t come up here often.
The second floor was like a huge loft, stationed above the central part of the house. From every window, I could see parts of the roof below and an almost aerial view of the meadow and forest.
When I was dressed, my stomach grumbled. I waited to feel the added hunger of Beast, but it didn’t come. I guess in his own house he didn’t need me to feed him. A strange feeling of loss swam through my heart before I shook it free. I should be glad I didn’t have to take care of that demanding wolf any longer, but deep down, I’d gotten used to his presence, and waking up this morning without scratching at my door was strangely lonely.
My stomach rumbled again, refusing to be ignored. The kitchen had to be on the main floor somewhere. Reaching the last stair, I did a quick U-turn with my hand around the end post and headed towards the back of the grand room. The library was off to my far right, across the grand room, so I knew those doors weren’t the kitchen. But to my left were another set of glass doors. Was this the kitchen? The glass was dark, and I couldn’t see into the room even with the sun shining brightly. Looking closer, I could make out a hunter-green fabric blocking my view from the inside.
Then I knew it wasn’t the kitchen. Curiosity itched my legs to move forward. Beast hadn’t said I needed to stay out of any of the rooms. I rationalized that if it turned out to be his bedroom I would quickly close the door. One peek wouldn’t hurt, would it? My hand pushed down on the curvy, golden handle. Suddenly, a growl erupted behind me. I yelped in surprise, and the handle clicked back into place. I swung around so fast I stumbled back against the glass doors I’d been trying to open.
The wolf stood just in front of me, not too threatening really, but clearly saying keep out. It only piqued my interest more. What was Beast hiding in there? His house was so open that to find something “off-limits” was hard to ignore, but I quickly hid my growing curiosity by changing the subject.
“So, I guess that isn’t the kitchen?” I asked innocently, knowing I would be back to explore later.
The wolf’s posture relaxed, and he started to walk further down the hall, snorting for me to follow. Before long we walked through the archway of a kitchen meant for a high-class mansion. My mouth hung open in shock. The tile floors created a pathway of soft earthy browns. The custom cabinets were carved from mahogany and all the appliances were top of the line stainless steel.
I don’t know what I was expecting his kitchen to look like, but this wasn’t it. I’m not sure why I was surprised. The rest of the house was of the same grand scale, why not the kitchen? My stomach growled for me to get with the program. If the food was as grand as this kitchen, I’d be fat in no time and my abdomen gave an anticipatory flip.
I swung open the two door fridge, and frowned. There were the usual condiments and a sealed gallon of milk, but the rest of the shelves were empty. I guess my anticipation was a little high; after all it was just me and Beast, and we hadn’t gone shopping before we came to the cabin. Curious, I stepped to the large upright freezer and opened it with a whoosh. I immediately stumbled back and plugged my nose. It was full of meat wrapped in white butcher paper. They all had different writing in permanent black ink: Deer hindquarter, elk sirloin, antelope sausage, moose shank, and the list went on. Even through the paper, tendrils of frozen blood smell curled around me. I slammed the door, repulsed. Did he kill all those animals? Of course he did. Who else would have?
Turning my attention back to the fridge, I grabbed the gallon of milk. The plastic jug bulged like it had been frozen and only recently thawed, ice crystals still sloshing around inside.
Placing the milk on the marble counter top, I scanned the kitchen, overwhelmed by the number of cupboards that could hide a box of cereal. I must have sighed aloud because the wolf nudged my hand.
Looking down into his large eyes, I could see how frustrating it was for him not being able to speak. I scratched behind his ears, which he seemed to enjoy, as he leaned into my hand.
“I don’t suppose you have cereal?” I asked.
He snorted, like a wolf laughing at an inside joke. His fur slid out from under my fingertips. He moved farther down the kitchen before he turned and put his front paws on the counter, nosing a cupboard above him. Watching him stretch out like that, I realized how huge he truly was. Towering over me, his sheer mass sent chills down my spine, and I shivered involuntarily. He looked at me and quickly dropped to the floor before padding out of the kitchen, leaving me with little doubt he had seen the flash of fear cross my face.
I almost ran after him to tell him I wasn’t scared of him and on most accounts that was true. He hadn’t hurt me since I’d met him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t. It was that possibility that wouldn’t let me drop my guard when he was around. Striding over to the cupboard he had pointed out, I opened it to find a variety of cereal boxes stuffed inside. I giggled when I noticed they were alphabetized. He was either obsessive compulsive or had too much free time.
I ate my fill before running upstairs to grab my hoodie. It was a beautiful day, and I was determined to enjoy the landscape. The sun worked to warm the morning air, but it still held a slight chill that nipped my nose. I wasn’t two steps out of the house before Beast was by my side.
“So, where to?” I asked, feeling strangely cheerful. I figured he knew these woods better than I did. “Are there any streams or waterfalls nearby?”
Meeting Beast’s eyes, I swore they glistened with excitement before he bounded off into the woods.
“Hey. Wait for me.” I quickly dashed through the same trees that’d swallowed my furry companion.
His powerful body sprinted faster than my pathetic legs could keep up. Sweat trickled down my neck, and I eventually slowed to a walk. My sides heaved, as I tried to control my breathing. I could no longer see him or pick up on a visible trail. Now surrounded by a dense section of lodge-pole pine, I didn’t see him jet back through them. A scream lodged in my throat
, and my hands reflexively flew up to protect my face. He slid to a halt in front of me, showering my shoes with dirt and decaying plant leaves.
“Geeze. Don’t do that,” I scolded, smacking him lightly on the head. At least he wasn’t some grizzly bear ready to devour me. Beast cocked his head to the side with his tongue lolling. His eyes shone with mirth.
I grinned despite my irritation, absorbing Beast’s infectious mood. “So, you were taking me somewhere?”
Beast took the lead, meandering at my pace this time. The higher we climbed, the more patches of snow I saw. It was past two o’clock before he stopped again. My legs tingled with the warmth of exercise. It was good to get out into nature, and my spirits already felt lighter. I inhaled the aromatic pine deep into my lungs and closed my eyes, listening as woodpeckers’ thumps and robins’ tweets echoed in my ears. In the distance, water thundered.
Anticipation swelled in my chest, lightening my step. I loved waterfalls. Grandpa Jonas had, too. In fact, a promised hike to a waterfall was the fastest way Grandpa knew to get me to do any chore without complaint. I smiled at the memory. Grandpa would have loved it here.
I was struggling through the unruly undergrowth and slipping in the snow when a small waterfall appeared, pounding the stream below. It was about three times my height. A soft mist dusted my face from where I stood near its base, and a small rainbow arched through the spray. Ice clung to its sides and etched the shore of the pools below. I noticed the deep holes the water had carved from the bedrock below and wondered if you could see any trout in the small pools outside the direct current.
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