Kingdom of Mirrors and Roses

by A. W. Cross

  I closed my eyes, embracing the dark, almost surrendering to it.

  Something growled behind me.

  My breath caught. I rolled around to face the sound, squinting at the surrounding pine and oak trees. The snarling wolf was almost pure white. Not one of Howl’s pack. Probably one of the lone Omega wolves Howl had described. One that wouldn’t have been a danger to me or anyone else if I hadn’t run barefoot into the forest without a gun or a horse. Just me.

  It charged. Already on the ground, I threw up my hands to guard my face.

  More tears stung my eyes even before the pain ripped into my arm. The wolf’s teeth sank in, and I stretched my free hand out. I needed . . . something, some kind of weapon, but all I could find was dirt and leaves. That would have to do.

  I threw the dirt and ripped my arm back when the wolf loosened its hold. That worked, but my vision went cloudy with pain. And I could still hear another wolf howling, coming closer.

  I stumbled to my feet and ripped a thin branch from an oak tree. It wasn’t a pike; I wouldn’t be able to drive the wolves away like the Maid of Gevaudan, but I would still stand tall and face my death as bravely as I could.

  I would meet my father as another fallen hunter, and I would . . .

  The white wolf leapt at me, but was caught midair by another dark blur. The russet wolfdog sank in his fangs and threw the smaller wolf into a tree with a sickening crack.

  It squealed and didn’t try to rise to its feet. Dead? Or at least very nearly.

  The russet wolfdog growled over it, then turned its half-feral gaze toward me.

  “Howl?” My mouth was dry, and I had to pant out the word.

  He took a step toward me, his gray eyes still narrowed to dark slits. Jean was wrong about one thing. The russet wolfdog was larger than a calf. Saliva dripped from his fangs, and it seemed he could swallow me in one short gulp.

  No more boy, no more Howl. I was staring into the face of a mindless killer.

  My father’s killer.

  I scooted my back into the tree and started, catching sight of the black fur of a silent wolf behind me. Ghost. Others in the pack wouldn’t be far behind. I dropped the stick. It wouldn’t have been much use against the smaller rogue wolf and seemed quite comical compared to the full pack or even Howl alone—the much larger beast. I didn’t have much fight left in me anyway. The only hope I had was that this beast still had some spark of humanity left to appeal to.

  I held my bleeding arm. “Howl, I’m sorry I ran,” I said, though I wasn’t sorry at all. More desperate at the sight of his teeth and the broken wolf he had pulled off me. “You can take me back. Just please . . . please don’t hurt me.”

  The forest went deadly silent. I trembled, damp and terrified. Then, slowly, the wolfdog reared back onto his hind legs, becoming a strange cross between a man and wolf.

  A beast that could stand and take me in his arms, carrying me away.

  16

  Beauty

  The wolfman slammed the iron bars closed and paced the underground room. He was still growling. Had he put me down here to prevent me from running or to protect me from himself? It could have been either or both.

  Wolf or not, I had never seen Howl so angry.

  “This was all your fault! Why didn’t you listen to me?” The voice was harsh and deep. Not just a growl. More like a roar. “I told you Mother wouldn’t understand; she thought you were burning the pups. I still could’ve stopped her, but you ran. That was your fault, too. If you were my mate, you would smell like me, and a lone rogue never would’ve attacked. The coward would’ve known to stay away!” But as Howl continued to pace, more of his fur faded.

  He dropped to the shadows when I was sure he was completely human.

  His voice softened. At once, he was the Howl I knew again, and that stark contrast cut me deeper than anything else. “It was my fault. I frightened you, didn’t I? I wanted to tell you earlier. I wanted to tell you so many times. I just didn’t want to scare you. I tried so hard not to scare you, but I did anyway. I’m sorry, Belle. I’m so sorry.”

  “Howl.” Just saying the word hurt more than all the new cuts and the burns on my feet. How could I reconcile what I had seen with the boy I had come to know? The boy I thought I had known. I sat on the dirt floor, nursing an arm that still bled and burned more than my leg. “You killed my father.”

  “I didn’t!” His head jerked up, then fell again. “I hope I didn’t. I’m really sorry if I did. It still could have been another wolf. There are just some nights, times I get angry and am not in control. I don’t always remember after. But I’m still a wolf. Wolves don’t usually . . . I just think I would remember if I killed someone.”

  That could be true. Maybe he didn’t remember. The wolf version of himself had seemed a little mindless. Mindless and terrifying. But I still had to know. All the answers I had been searching for were right before me. They had always been. “What do you remember? It would have been the same night you found me.”

  “I remember . . . there were hunters in the woods. We were going to wait them out at the castle, but they kept getting closer. Mother had just whelped; it was too soon to move the pups. I thought maybe we could spread out, make some noise, lead them away. I thought it worked, but it took so long . . . We couldn’t hunt. Everyone was hungry and worried, and then Spin went missing and I was so annoyed, but . . . Ghost spooked your horse. I wanted him to—it gave Spin a chance to run—but when I saw you fall and trap your foot, I was still myself enough to break the strap. I didn’t hurt you.”

  So, the wolf hadn’t just missed my leg by accident. It was Howl all along.

  “I could never hurt you,” Howl insisted.

  My heart leapt at the words, a part of me wanting so much to believe them. Wanting to see the wolf as my protector and wanting things to somehow go back as they were before. “But that was after my father would have been killed,” I said. “Do you know what happened before that?”

  An awful silence answered my question.

  “Howl?”

  “I’m sorry, Belle. I’m so, so sorry.” His shadowed figure fled, and a door slammed closed, shutting out the light.

  17

  Beauty

  The underground room should have been a root cellar. It had no windows, no light, and even as my eyes adjusted slightly, all I could see were the dark bars surrounding the uneven dirt. Deep scratches in the iron showed that the former occupants were even more restless than I was.

  These were cages for dogs with a poor master. A poor Alpha.

  Howl didn’t leave me alone that long. Probably just long enough for him to find another set of clothes and get himself dressed, but still longer than I wanted to stay in that dark and haunted place. The light filtered in from the open cellar door and I limped to the bars, guarding my arm. “How long are you going to keep me here, Howl?”

  “Belle, you ran injured right into a rogue wolf. You could have been killed.”

  And he still thought he was saving me? He and I both knew that my injuries had been a poor excuse from the start. I just hadn’t pressed him. I agreed to stay because I had little to go home to. Because I was curious. I had even grown fond of the miserable little beast!

  But that ended now. If he had really wanted to help me get home, he certainly could have.

  Howl looked me over with his dilated gray eyes that were still quite wolf-like. They had always been. “Does your arm hurt? Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you anything?”

  I clenched my teeth. “You could get me my horse.”

  “Your horse?” He frowned like he couldn’t understand or believe me. “Belle—”

  “Get my horse!” All the emotions tearing through me had left me lost and empty, but I could summon up one final burst of energy, one that was far more angry than sad. “You know what that smells like, right?”

  Howl shrank back. “I’m so sorry, Belle. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I thought perhaps . . . Mother said she
would speak to you.” He ran off again, leaving the cellar door open for the silver wolf to take his place.

  His mother was a wolf. I supposed I had always suspected this, but my mind refused to make that final step. Stubbornly hoping Howl had at least one human connection.

  But he had been nothing but a savage from the first.

  I sank down against the far wall, rubbing at my arm and then my face as she studied me with her yellow eyes. I couldn’t stand the silence.

  “You’re Howl’s mother?” My words dripped with scorn, knowing she might understand the words like the rest of Howl’s wolves, but she would never answer.

  Whatever Howl had planned, it couldn’t change anything. I was so sure, but I still barely blinked when she actually responded in a voice like a growl. A mark on how much everything in this castle had changed me. “He likes to call me that. He barely knew his real one.”

  “Or his real name?” I asked, now numb. Detached and ready to find the truth of who or what Howl was.

  “I’m quite certain his mother called him Howl—or at least Hal. But when she learned of his curse, she called him a beast instead. She abandoned her cub, and the Alpha of this tower locked the boy up as he started to transform. But I don’t remember much from that time, either. Memories fade over time, and I have already lived much longer than a wolf should.”

  “So, Howl . . . he’s always been this way? And that’s why the count locked him up?” It still sounded so horrible, but if there were times Howl couldn’t control himself, then could the count actually have some justification in doing that? Even to a child?

  The wolf snarled, a sight so terrifying I was almost glad for the bars between us. “He is cursed because of the count,” she said.

  “The count did something?” That made more sense, and I could believe it instantly. The count would always be a villain in my eyes. “What did he do? What do you remember?”

  She sat on her hind legs, eyes closed as she related the memory. “The Alpha of this tower delighted in . . . experimentation. I don’t remember much outside of the pain he caused. But, many years ago, he used our pack to create a number of beasts, including one he couldn’t control.”

  “The Beast of Gevaudan.” I knew they had to be connected and now I saw the full evidence in the cells around me.

  “Yes. It was put down after it killed hundreds of human women and children, and our pack needed a new Alpha.”

  “Howl is Alpha.”

  The wolf growled again. “I am Alpha. The boy was not born into our pack. He was a human cub, and I didn’t trust him. But when the beast was killed, and the fires started, I had to risk everything to save my pack. I called to the whelp and told him how to open our cages before we burned inside of them. He has more than earned his place among us—man or wolf. But our pack is not how it should be. There is never just one Alpha. There is a breeding pair. My mate is the one you call Ghost. But the boy should be Alpha. He should have his own mate and make a pack of his cubs.” She looked pointedly back at me even though she had answered nothing.

  “So, you don’t know where he came from? He’s been alone this whole time?”

  “He’s had to be. When he was young, he sometimes visited the human villages. But even if he hid his face, coming only at night, there was trouble.” Probably more trouble than I ever realized if Howl had only a child’s control of his emotions and powers. “I convinced him to discontinue the practice,” the wolf continued. “He has his pack. We have been his family in all ways except for one.”

  I didn’t respond. How could I? Some of my anger trickled away at the thought of Howl as a cursed and lonely child, but I still couldn’t be who she wanted me to be for Howl. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  She raised her snout. “Wolves aren’t nearly so picky about choosing mates, but you are a difficult, ungrateful bitch I never would have wished on him. If he is truly not to your liking, you know he would never force you.”

  “He killed my father.” The words betrayed how empty and sorry I had become over the whole situation. How I hated the count and the cursed wolf he created more than Howl, but it was still true.

  Howl would have to force me if he even expected me to touch him again.

  The wolf just cocked her head. “How do you know that?”

  “I . . .” I hesitated. Without the former heat of my emotions to spur me on, I fumbled for the right answer. I had been so certain, but really, I only knew because that was what Jean had told me. And Howl just said he didn’t remember and might have lost control.

  Howl could have denied it. He could have tried to lie to me, but I already knew Howl would never do that. Jean had no reason to lie, either, but I couldn’t remember many of the details of his story. Maybe . . . there was something else missing? Something more that Jean could tell me?

  “I don’t know, but I need to find out.” I stood and held on to the bars, desperate to will myself past them. “I can’t stay here and not know.”

  The silver wolf stood unmoved. “You will discuss that with the boy. I have done my part and have said all I wish to say to you.” She turned her tail and walked away.

  18

  Beauty

  After the silver wolf left, Howl came back into the cellar. Watching him come in triggered a surreal memory of him smiling, bringing me a sack full of food or willow bark while I was stuck in bed. Back when I could still look forward to his presence. This time, he put a bundle of cloth on the ground. Then he opened the prison door, walking into the cage with his head bowed. “Mother said talking to you didn’t help.”

  Of course it didn’t. Accepting Howl’s wolf form alone was hard enough; accepting that it might have also caused the death of my father . . . no amount of talking could bridge that gap.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and stood. “So, what does she recommend you do now?”

  That silver wolf hated me, and I didn’t much care for her either.

  “There is one thing. She said I should bite you.” He looked up, showing his fangs.

  “Bite me?” My heart sped. I backstepped into the wall and guarded the mark on my arm.

  “She thinks I could infect you like a rabid dog. Then you couldn’t leave.” He stepped closer, quickly cornering me, but then his voice dropped a sharp octave, breaking. He couldn’t hold his harsher tone, not even for a moment. “You really shouldn’t leave. If you did, you’d bring all the villager hunters back with their torches and burn the place again. They would kill the pups and destroy my whole pack.”

  “Do you really think I would do something like that?”

  “Do you really think I would bite you? That I could deliberately hurt you or anyone like that?”

  I didn’t know. He was a wolf, but he was also Howl.

  My Howl.

  Most of my anger came because of how much I still cared about him. Because I couldn’t believe I could feel so much for someone who hurt me so deeply. It was like looking into the eyes of a rabid dog, seeing his face, yet knowing the friend I loved was gone forever, replaced by a snarling monster.

  No matter how much I ached for him, my father was gone, and there was really nothing Howl could do or say to repair that.

  He turned away, falling into the deadpan voice of a pack leader. “Wolves often mate for life—the Alpha will bare her teeth to everyone but her mate. She is not Omega. She is dominant over the whole pack, but she accepts him. She doesn’t fear him. If you truly fear and hate me so much, then you are not my mate, and you should go.”

  Who knew? Wolves could actually be incredibly romantic. I wished so much that it changed all the other thoughts and fears I had spinning around my head.

  “The pack found your horse,” Howl continued. “He will have our scent so no other wolf should bother you going home.”

  He actually found my horse? Howl was the worst prison guard in the business. Even behind bars, ordering him around was almost too easy. I might not have even needed to yell.

  Part of me still wanted t
o yell, but how could I when he was still trying his best to give me every single thing I said I wanted? When I had pictured myself standing against my father’s killer, I had hoped it would be more satisfying than this.

  Now, I even felt indebted to Howl again, and that wasn’t what I wanted at all.

  But the only thing I had to give him in return was my word.

  “Thank you,” I said, deciding not to ask how the wolf pack had brought Bullet here or marked him. “I won’t bring the villagers. I just need to talk to Jean. He’ll tell me what happened.” I hadn’t really listened before, but Jean was my friend, and he would tell me. I still prayed it was some sort of accident. A tragic misunderstanding. Maybe even self-defense. Something like my first encounter with Howl when I came barreling after his pack with a gun and they just let me trip on my own venom. Something like that still might not restore our relationship to what it might have been, but I could forgive him and hope the best for him from afar.

  “I still don’t want you to go,” Howl said, his head down. “Please don’t.”

  I almost broke then, wanting to reach for him, but I just couldn’t. “I need to know. Don’t you wish to know as well?”

  “And if I did hurt him?”

  I couldn’t answer that. I might be able to promise to keep off the other hunters, but I couldn’t promise anything else. “I just need to know,” I said again. “Do you understand that?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” He choked back a sob and stepped away, pointing to the bundle he had left on the floor. My coat and boots. “I’ll miss you, Belle, but you may go.”

  Mounting Bullet, I turned from the ruined castle and galloped out through the forest. An eerie, sorrowful howl haunted my steps and pulled at my heart.